The Diary of Cestlep: Black Valley and the Abyss

[Oceanyka]

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The Diary of Cestlep
Special Report Series
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Black Valley and the Abyss

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My name is Stephan Senki. I'm a 32 year old Chief Veteran Reporter at the Diary of Cestlep.
The following article follows my trip into the remote Black Valley area, site of the infamous Pripmann disaster. It is a pleasant location with no lack of deadly mysteries and intrigue.
While it is a true miracle that I survived, my passion for journalism instructed me I should keep going forward and let the people hear the lore of the land. And so I did.
This is: Special Report, Black Valley and the Abyss

Personal note: there are far better places to spend your summer on.

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[Oceanyka]

Chapter Zero: Black Valley

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The location of my new assignment is a remote location in western Australia, close to the Aboriginal Homeland region. We call it Black Valley for the abundance of Chermozem soils, which although already rather common in Australia are basically omnipresent in the area surrounding the central river. This river is called the Aombom, and is a large system from many smaller streams flowing from the westernmost mountains. In reality it has relatively small volume compared to other large rivers, but has many islands between the stream which are a great aid to the locals. From these small islands they set shops, fishing locations, homes and docks. In the westernmost part of the river the density of islands becomes large enough that a large town called Tombsman, highly reminiscent of Venice, was able to be built. Further east we find the town of Orthos with it's mysterious massive hole they call "The Abyss" of which we have little information. Even further east we find New Kursk, a small town on the border of the area affected by the Pripmann disaster.

These areas are confederated for mutual protection and aid in the Black Valley Confederation, which is only known in the outside for being very hard to get into legally; bloody miracle they let me in. The Diary has been trying to send people in since 53' to no avail, and the area completely cut communications with anyone but the Council since 55' when Pripmann happened. By the time of writing we are in a lightly armoured vehicle, headed towards Tombsman. We've only met bandits once in the mountains, which means they may try to avoid the area. Which is strange because I've been told the locals are nice and welcoming.

[Oceanyka]

Chapter One: Tombsman

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The town of Tombsman is a welcoming sight. It's a large settlement mostly built on the islands and shores in and around the entrance to the Aombom river. It has a population of 40,000 people in its administrative area, with over half in the town itself. Frankly it's rather small, but it more than makes up for it with its lively colours, abundance of resources and booming industry. It reminds me of a mixture between the city of Venice and a damp Alpine city-state I once visited on a reporting trip to Europe. Unlike the people there, these people are friendly and cooperative. According to my guide, who was waiting for me, crime in the town and around it is as low as that of an European city. I am completely baffled by this. The town lives in peace and isolation, away from all communication and even evading taxes. The population is a heavy mixture of European and Aboriginal peoples in similar proportion with many mixed race peoples, and a small Ferozen minority. Curiously they seem very... calmed. They aren't troublesome at all.

We went around the main sights such as the main river port, the town hall (where I met the mayor, an old Aboriginal man), the central market, the steel mill and a charming little cafe overlooking the port. During the night my petite Korean-born guide, red-faced, asked me to please stay in my room for the night. I thought it was funny that a Korean wanted to keep me in check as my grandfather Okiomi taught me Koreans were weak and feeble, so I felt it was an obligation to sneak out to hit the pub and fool around with the local women. I ended up being scolded after being found in an entirely different house next morning. At the very least their night life is as lively as that of the rest of the country's, with less shooting and hard drugs.

After breakfast we were taken to the mountains for patrol. A group of armed men wanted to pass into the Black Valley, and the uniformed men politely asked them to leave with some unintelligible Aboriginal conversation. They did so, and I found myself rather puzzled. I asked him, "Why did they leave with so little resistance?" and his reply left me even more confused. "The people from the areas around fear the Black Valley has a curse for those that do not belong in it. Sometimes it's weak, sometimes it's strong. We told them it was stronger today." People around the country aren't usually stopped by that kind of thing, but it's nothing too terribly weird for a rural Aboriginal region.

Overall the town is an excellent location to spend a weekend in. The sights are great, the food is tasty, the women are fine and most importantly it is impossibly calmed and relaxed. After an incident in which I walked in on my changing guide, causing her to ignore me until we reached our next location, we sailed off to New Kursk in a canoe. They allowed us to keep our guns, but the sailor taking us there didn't bring any. What a strange place, but definitely of good taste.

[Oceanyka]

Intertravel: Down the River

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The Aombom river is a pleasant one to sail on. The waters are fierce enough to give a challenge, but not so much that travel is impossible or too hard. In the small canoe sailed me, my guide and an old sailor of this river. The wildlife was lively and abundant despite human exploitation, we saw various schools of fish swim below us. On the surrounding farmland terrace agriculture was plentiful and the crops looked large and healthy. I was surprised by the amount of infrastructure in the river. The small islands that clutter it up have homes, docks, stores, stopping posts, bars and I'm quite sure I saw at least one small village. Armed presence is minimal, I only saw a single sniper tower overlooking the less populated areas. Truly the people here live in a different world from ours.

After a few hours of rowing we saw what seemed like a large hill with a large amount of buildings in and around it. I asked our sailor about the hill and he replied; "That is not a hill friend, it is the town of Orthos. It is built on a raised area around the Great Abyss." The Abyss. While it may seem logical to stop here before going to the Pripmann area, the higher ups at the Diary shot off the idea mercilessly. "Classified information" they said. It seems the people of Orthos are very keen on keeping their secrets, and insist others do the same. And apparently the Council has agreed to maintain their secrets safe.

The river kept getting thinner and thinner. I saw several small streams and lesser rivers expanding out, which may explain the lower width. The town of New Kursk is built directly over the now small stretch, with a decently sized river to cross it. "The atmosphere here is different" I thought. In Tombsman I felt nothing but joy and liveliness while Orthos from the outside seemed intriguing and mysterious. But New Kursk seemed strangely familiar and with a tint of the smell of guts in the air. Finally we reached the small dock.

[Oceanyka]

Chapter Two: New Kursk

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"I am where I am" was the first thought to cross my mind.

New Kursk is a sad reminder that this isolated valley is still part of our nation. The dock we arrived at was unkempt and didn't have much traffic aside from some fishing vessels and trade ships. Two soldiers greeted us, asked us for a special passport we had been granted and then let us in. The town wasn't very large or wealthy and there was a very high presence of military personnel. Everywhere. In fact, the absence of males in casual clothing makes me believe most of the male population has been conscripted. Curiously enough, because this valley is very safe from foreign attacks. The town wasn't very impressive at all, the architecture and lifestyle is a mixture of World War-era Soviet culture and Oceanykan one. It's similar to my hometown. The entire place is foggy and a bit moist, with abundance of grey colours and a gloomy atmosphere. The government of New Kursk is heavily centralised and was a heavy stepping stone for the acceptance of the new People's Council in this region.

Then a contact of ours led us to a large blast door in what seemed like the entrance to an abandoned bunker.

Down the stairs we saw the real heart of New Kursk: a massive, dimly lit marketplace in a bunker complex below the ground. The massive trade hub, which was in fact legal but just very well hidden, had everything from firearm stalls to restaurants. Bars and small manufactories. A small military base. But behind another pair of blast doors which were part of an airlock, which we needed a verbal password to enter, we found a smaller but equally stunning market. But this was no normal market.

"What's that, over there? Some kind of artisanship?"
"That is an artifact comrade. The ones from New Kursk we call "lowland artifacts" to differentiate from the... other ones."
"What are they?"
"They're clumps of matter, you see. Biomass from animals and plants, pieces of human structures, common objects, etc. Something at Pripmann warped them."
"Warped them? Aren't they dangerous?"
"Most of their radioactivity has decayed by now, but to be safe they are usually stored in lead boxes and the air has a high quality filter. The ones displayed are safe, but they are only half of our stock. The rest... mmh."
"Why is this area closed off?"
"This is the heart of our economy, comrade! It is our greatest secret and New Kursk's lifeline. We eat and prosper from these artifacts."

My guide was looking closely at one of the items with curious eyes. It was a small lump, the size of a fist, with a bright light blue glow emanating from it. She tried to touch it and got shocked, then turning around to look at me with teary eyes.

"Do they have any notable special properties?"
"Yes, some are predictable and categorizable. The ones that look like that one, we call them Flash. They're like big batteries, you see. Far better than anything humans could produce."
"So you're saying my guide here could have been turned into dust?"
"No, those ones are very safe. Special electrical equipment is necessary to extract more energy from them and they seem to recharge on their own."

We spent a few hours walking around the marketplace interacting with the different kinds of artifacts, or "lowland artifacts" as they call them. Some were almost useless with properties like stress relief, while others were able to speed up metabolism to close off wounds faster. One was even capable of expanding to the size of a garbage bin lid and effortlessly absorbing hits by 23mm rounds from an outback autocannon with the application of some electricity. After seeing most of the interesting ones we left the bunker complex and our contact lead us to our next destination: the Cordon.

[Oceanyka]

Chapter Three: The Cordon

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Our contact acquired a vehicle from New Kursk's garrison to transport us to the Cordon. Although we would have preferred to sail there, I soon found out the river was getting dramatically smaller splitting off into numerous streams. At some point a man-made dike completely stopped the flow downwards from the main path, but the volume of water was small enough that a dike seemed unnecessary at that point. The further west we got the more foggy and moist our surroundings appeared. He explained us this; "The end of the Aombom is sitting on a massive pile of Uranium. The... incident caused it to go critical, and now it is constantly fueling itself. Many of the Aombom's streams lead this way, but are constantly evaporating due to the ground's heat. Fortunately the amount of dirt blocks radiation from affecting us, but groundwater could be dangerous." It was getting dark and he instructed us to not make too much noise. I noticed he was driving slowly.

We arrived at the infamous Cordon. It looked like the frontline of Europe in the 1910s, with many trenches and bunkers. Foxholes and barbed wire. Artillery and machinegun emplacements, sniper towers, marked minefields. It seemed very out of place here because of the Valley's state of peace.

"What's with the massive military presence?"
"You know where we get the artifacts from, yes?"
"The area affected by the Pripmann incident, I believe. The radiation and all that."
"God knows if it was His idea of a prank or radiation, but artifacts are not the only thing to come from there."

We disembarked from the vehicle and headed towards the barracks where we would stay. After being given a bed and leaving our possessions in a designated area we headed towards the headquarters. There I met the garrison commander; a tall, redheaded man with grey hair and a massive Yurizlansian flag mounted behind his desk next to a Republican Oceanykan one. The first question I asked him was about the heavy military presence. Without giving me a clear answer he looked at his watch and muttered "it's their dinner time". He then asked us to follow him upstairs. On the higher floor of the headquarters there is a high visibility of the area all defense positions point towards. "It's tuesday at ten, which means they're hungry". Still without being given a logical explanation he handed me a backpack with magazines for an outback autocannon and said "shoot if not uniformed". I suppose they were going to be attacked by something and, without questioning the morality of conscripting a foreign journalist, I sit down behind an autocannon right in front of us. I instructed my guide in how to reload, which fortunately is an easy process which is a convenient design feature. Although her frame, clothing and appearance were completely out of place here which made me feel self-conscious about making a lady reload a massive automatic cannon.

Lost in my thoughts I only noticed the gunfire by the time it had peaked in intensity, which took about five seconds. Many strange figures moved in the swamplands directly in front of the frontline. Some had humanoid shapes. Most were crooked and had awkward movements, but a minority was actually firing back at us. The others were either quadrupeds or had illogical shapes. Indiscriminately I began firing back with imprecise bursts of high explosive tracer cleansing. The fighting was hard and tiresome, but after a few hours and a few hundred shots fired it seemed that the assault had stopped. It looked like the first trenchline had been overrun and medical teams franatically jumped through their own barbed wire, carrying back wounded and maimed men. The dead were brought at the end.

"Looks like they weren't too hungry, yes?"
"I would love an explanation for my illegal conscription into this battle."
"Ha! Pansy, I don't believe it's your first time by any means."
"I'd rather not talk about past experiences."
"I don't care, but I assume you wish for a clear explanation. You see, the same forces behind the artifacts have taken a toll on men and beasts alike. They're warped and gone crazy, I tell you! Every week those CYKAS try to attack our dear New Kursk. Instead of eating each other they seem to ignore themselves at a particular time of the day on a particular weekday, to come attack US! Unbelievable!"

After a bit of chatting with plenty of vodka included we retired back to our barracks. My guide was sweating heavily and I restrained my mind like a block of pure steel. Outside we met our contact who was also sweating and had some blood splats on his clothing and rifle. "Haha, you see comrade! In the Black Valley, nature attacks YOU! Hahaha!" It seemed he was drunk, and it doesn't look like it was recently but rather a continuous cycle of alcohol induced fighting spirit born a few hours ago. We slept off the night in beds exactly ten meters apart with several infantrymen between us. I have a feeling the Diary was involved, they always send "special requests" with the most mundane and stupid of details.

In the morning we waved our goodbyes and prepared to head back to New Kursk. But as planned, after the base was out of sight we drifted off into a side road and got off to prepare our heavy equipment.

"You still want to go to the Zone, yes? Ah, comrade Zatlov will kill me if he knows I let you in!"

[Oceanyka]

This book offers more sensation than perspective. The author’s scalded and mixed emotions are best summarized by these two sentences

nigga whatchu doing here you aren't supposed to post until the end

Yeah, frankly I'm not a good writer. But I did feel like cramming a bunch of contexts from different places into the setting of my own nation to give it flavour.

[Oceanyka]

Chapter Four: Pripmann Fields

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The road was thin and severely unkept. The woods were dense and visibility was terrible. We trailed along behind him keeping a tight grip on our firearms. Occasionally we heard a swoosh on the leaves or the bushes, but the man always replied "It's nothing. Continue." After a few hours we found ourselves on a small hill with lower density of trees, where visibility was far better. From there the view was depressing; woods as far as the eye can see, but in the middle were overgrown remains of what was the city of Pripmann. 200,000 inhabitants, quickly boiling down to a few hundred refugees in just four hours. "We will go west of the city, to the fields." We kept walking behind him for another two hours.

At some point I could see the treeline. Behind it lay a large abandoned plot of farmland with flourishing crops. "Do not eat them. Follow me." We obeyed without question. After walking through the field for about twenty minutes we saw the familiar shape of a human right in front of a rural home, but he quickly raised up his SKS and tapped him once in the head. Before we could be surprised he said; "It was not a man." I understood the subtle hint. Those things happen around here. The red porch welcomed our visit with open arms and rotting wood. From the second floor the view was great, highly reminiscent of Yurizlansian wheat fields but much more lonely and barren.

"This is as far as I can take you into the Zone comrade. I have children back home."

"Well then, you can go."

"Excuse me?"

"We plan to go further in. Don't worry, we'll be fine."

"You paid, so I owe you my protection in and out. To leave would be to waste half of our contract."

"It's fine chap, keep the change."

"What about the woman?"

"She's got to learn the lore of the land too. Learning has a certain danger to it."

The bearded man cracked a laugh and sat up, slinging his rifle behind him. His joyful expression was interrupted by a shrieking scream of the skies, with plentiful thunder. I noticed a light headache was attacking my mind.

"Very well then. But remember, the Zone likes to keep what it is given. Follow me."

He took us down to the lower floor and quickly found a small hatch on the floor. "These homes were usually prepared for a disaster" he said. "But not for what happened that day." It was a decently sized bomb shelter with walls of pure concrete. Home renovations around here were common after Grand Neutron was opened, apparently. Inside there were six full sized skeletons and five smaller ones. "They ran out of food. Didn't stock enough." Outside there was a grand commotion, deafening sounds of thunder assaulted our ears while it felt like the earth was moving. The headache I has intensified, but not to an unbearable degree. Some form of animal crashed into the house through one of the wooden walls. It was large and heavy. It revolted around in cries of pain until the storm stopped. "Come, let's give our farewells."

We climbed out. A huge mass of animal tissue, almost shaped like a boar, lay in the ground convulsing as if it had a deadly strain of the rabies or a horrifying stroke. "It's brain is completely fried" he said. Through the wall we could see the skies. They were returning back to their natural colour, but the heavy tint of purple, pink and orange remained visible for a few minutes. "We call it a blowout. Seek solid refuge when you feel something is wrong with your mind." He put his backpack on the floor and began taking out some things. "Take these. I brought a few things because you seemed like the stupid kind to me." A map, a handgun and an assortment of cartridges. Probably knew I came prepared with things like a multitool knife and a compass. "A final warning: remember you are where you are. Treat the Zone like you would the Outback, but with even greater care." I nodded.

"Well comrade, here we part ways. Good luck Stalkeriye."

"Stalkeriye?"

"Man that roams the unknown in our Yurizlansian dialect."

He grabbed his backpack and left with no more words.

[Oceanyka]

Chapter Five: City of Pripmann

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We walked through the fields that once were the farmlands of Pripmann. Overgrown and suspiciously coloured Argelben plants littered the area. "Do not eat them" were the man's words. But now he was gone, and it was only me and my guide. We only saw a couple of wild animals that we avoided and kept walking towards a large radio tower on top of a hill. When we arrived we saw it; the city of Pripmann. It was abandoned and horribly overgrown, much more so than the farmlands. The buildings were completely abandoned as if a horrible war had ravaged through the city, but there was little damage in them.

We first searched around a suburban area. The houses were unkempt and it looked like people were in a hurry. Unfortunately there were also many skeletons, large and small, with personal things in bags lying around them. It looks like most didn't have time. On the other side of the street we were in there appeared to be a humanoid shape watching us, but it faded away in the blink of an eye. Still, we kept our guns close. We then went closer to the centre to a factory and a prison complex. In the first we found strange anomalies of reality, large sphere-shaped bends of light that visibly "breathed" air in and out. I threw a rock at one. It immediately began sucking the nearby air at incredibly high speeds in a grand implosion, and then violently threw it away. The overpressure hurt my ears. Fortunately my guide was in the next room over, looking at some forgotten documents. In the factory's exit we found some kind of poodle of liquid grey material which had flooded the ground. I found the remains of a long gone adult person and threw them at the poodle. It melted. Very fast. The fumes smelled absolutely horrible, but it seems they weren't harmful... I hope.

We then headed over to the prison complex. Inside all the cells were open, as if a forgiving warden had decided to let everyone out. Due to this the main halls of the cell rows were littered with human remains. In the armory we found a stash of very well-hidden ammunition which we took. It wasn't of standard issue to the guards, so that meant someone had them stored here. Not surprising at all; in fact it was more so that we hadn't met anyone in our trip. As I thought this I saw a figure behind us. I turned around, but halfway through I felt a terrible nausea and vomited while falling on my knees. My guide was looking through some other documents behind a wall, but in a position where I was still visible. I lifted my head and saw our guest: a short man, just 1.4 meters tall with a grossly oversized head, deformed facial features like a Ferozen man but much worse and a prison outfit. I felt a need to dig a pistol out from my backpack. It looked lovely. I wanted to taste it, so I put it the barrel inside my mouth. The trigger looked like it felt appeasing, so I had a certain necessity to touch it gently. I heard a shot and came back to my senses, realising I was fractions of a second away from committing suicide. The attacker was screaming in pain, and to my right side my assistant was holding an Ithaca shotgun with fresh gunpowder gases revealing her deed. She appeared shocked and regretful. I quickly jumped on my feet and magdumped the attacker. It stopped moving when a hit penetrated it's upper skull. We quickly scurried out from the building, fearing the appearance another such creature. On the way out a very slim thread, almost invisible, touched my boonie hat. It immediately combusted and began dissolving as if thrown into the strongest acid, so I quickly threw it away. More of the thread began growing on it. We kept running away until the building was behind us and we stood in the open street.

No time was wasted. I think we were in the center of the city, covered by tall buildings and on an unusually wide road. We walked north-west so we may return to the Cordon. My need to explore the Zone was more than fulfilled and we had enough data. After walking about a kilometer we were met by the supersonic crack of gunfire. I threw my guide behind a car but was hit in the left shoulder. Several armed men ran towards us and searched our possessions. When I groaned because of the pain, one of them kicked my head. Before passing out I only remember her screams.

[Oceanyka]

Chapter Six: Heart of the Zone

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I woke up in a barren field, naked and freezing. My left arm was broken and I was bleeding from the shoulder above it. The night was menacing, and the moon looked at me with malice. I gathered my senses and looked around, nothing but mountainous woodland. I saw something from the corner of my eye. A couple of humanoid shapes in all four limbs were stalking me, and began to circle around me. I ran through the opening between them and they gave chase. They were able to easily keep up despite me being frantically sprinting. I spotted an old log cabin and rushed inside, locking the door. The rusted iron lock barely held itself. Inside, through ample use of touch, I found a fur coat, a cooking pan, a can of tuna, a grenade and a double barrel shotgun along with some 00 buckshot shells. One of the things jumped into the cabin through the window and attacked me, but I managed to bring it down in two shots. From a closer view the moonlight revealed the creature was wearing a broken gas mask and a WW2 era Soviet uniform. The other creature jumped in and attacked before I could reload, and I struggled with it until I was barely able to hit it in the head with the pan, confusing it. Then I bashed his head until it stopped moving. The commotion apparently attracted a pack of wild dogs which appeared to lack eyesight and a single large wolf-like creature, which I assumed was the pack leader. I began firing out from the windows shooting down the dogs. The large thing along with three other dogs rushed the front window where I was. I blinked, and suddenly the creature had become four of itself. I thought it was an illusion but they certainly looked and sounded real. The spread of the buckshot rounds managed to kill one dog and wound the other. I was racing to reload when the pair jumped into the cabin. I hit its head with the shotgun's stock and mauled the dog with the pan in a display of human brutality and savagery. The rest of the creatures jumped into the room and began biting my limbs while I locked the shotgun. I shot the confused creature twice at point blank range. Whatever was biting on me suddenly wasn't and silence filled the woods. I wasn't even wounded. The other creatures never really existed.

I found a way to open the can of tuna with a rusty nail and gobbled it down. Then I ran away following a small river, feeling stalked by something. A root from a tree caused me to trip and fall. While trying to stand I heard footsteps behind me, but saw nothing. Yet I still heard them, closing in. Panicked and desperate I shot into the air twice exactly in the general direction of the footsteps and something shrieked of pain. It made itself visible. A humanoid shape, standing taller than me and rather muscular was wounded in the left leg. It charged at me with four tentacles spilling out from what used to be its mouth, yellow Aboriginal eyes looking at me with dread and murderous intent. I tried to wrestle but realised my mistake when it ripped my right leg open with its claws. I pulled the pin on the grenade and kicked it away from me with the unharmed leg, then throwing myself some meters away feet facing the device. It stood up and jumped at me, but the grenade went off and filled the creature with endless bits of supersonic shrapnel. It lay on the floor crying out in pain, its guts spread in a small radius. In a lame fashion I limped away from the area in the direction I was originally headed towards.

Through the treeline I saw some buildings. Some sort of joy came to me as I tried to limp faster towards them. I tripped and fell on something hard. Looking back the moonlight revealed a skeleton with heavy infantry gear on it. It could have been heavily irradiated, and I knew it, but frankly I felt it didn't matter at that point. I began to strip apart and dishonour the dead man, putting his own gear on myself. A flak vest, a backpack with some goods, an RPG-2, an AKM assault rifle with some four spare magazines, a first aid kit, a flashlight, a Brodie helmet and a British combat uniform. I carried my heavy load towards the building that greeted me with a welcoming air.

Inside I stitched my leg and bandaged both the shoulder and the leg. I took some painkillers to ease the trauma. Inside the backpack there was a canteen which I gulped down along with a large can of pasta with tomato sauce. Feeling satisfied and well, I walked out of my little shelter and into the building complex behind it. A massive sign looked down at me; "Grand Neutron Research Center ~ For a Modern Nation". A chill went down my spine. A step towards a larger building complex and something began buzzing in my backpack. A Geiger counter. I took it out along with a gas mask and put it on my face. Then I kept moving towards the buildings, my feet moving on their own. Later I would recall that I really didn't want to go in there, but something was dragging my body towards the entrance by implanting a large mass of curiosity on me.

Inside there was a counter where a secretary once worked in a large empty hall. Papers were scattered through the floor. Heading right I catched a glimpse of movement in the air and aimed towards it. The air moved in a circular fashion with a tint of purple. The Geiger counter got louder. I grabbed a paper, made a ball from it and threw it towards the strange anomaly, which suctioned the ball of paper and flashed. I heard a crack to my left. The ball of paper, unbelievably, lay embeded in the concrete wall. It was very slightly cracked, almost unnoticeably. "If that was me my guts would have been embedded into the building" I thought. The Geiger counter relaxed and the thing disappeared. I threw another ball of paper into it and nothing happened, so I quickly rushed to the other side. On another room I found a moving ball of lightning, which discharged its massive amounts of energy into the air when hit with a conductive material like a nail. Finally I found an administrative room, when I remembered my guide. The poor girl was most certainly dead or suffering. Still, the masses of papers scattered around reminded me of how she liked to look around for important documents. So she was a bit of a nerd. In a similar fashion I began looking around for anything I could take home, and inside a large desk I found what seemed like a copy of a very important document.

"Project Hades | Nuclear Fission with Alternative Materials". Apparently it was some kind of experiment using a previously unknown stable isotope of Uranium, dubbed "Warpstone" by the scientists working with it. It looks like Uranium tinted purple, but with a very slight green light emission. It was created by processing Uranium-238 through an unknown artifact extracted from the massive hole in the town of Orthos over 40 years ago. The material apparently warps the light around it like a very dense gravity well, but it has no detectable gravity to it. Furthermore it emits some kind of radiation still not understood, but that isn't harmful to cellular life. This radiation does not reduce the material's weight or composition. Still, mice injected with a dose of five nanograms of warpstone per week displayed violent mutation six months into the treatment, noticeably no cancer or tumours were detected. Only stable mutations. The material was apparently fissile, and due to the lack of Uranium processing capabilities in Oceanyka (Grand Neutron was the only such facility in the country at the time) it was seen as a cheap alternative to new nuclear weapons. During fission it can release around 10% of its energy, rivaling the most modern of hydrogen fusion bombs. A test with a very small warhead was done underground. The affected area displayed signs of warping in reality and anomalies which violated the laws of physics. The side effects were seen as more damage dealt to a potential enemy. In October 21st 1955 the facility was infiltrated by a team of foreign operators. It is not unknown that Grand Neutron was established by a foreign nation for experimentation on an isolated and secretive location, so a rival country is suspected. The infiltrators were not found but no damage was reported. According to the story in October 23rd all reactors processing Uranium were damaged and the device used to create warpstone was destroyed. The next day, while emergency crews were frantically trying to clean the reactors, eight large nuclear warheads (all of them made from warpstone) were activated and went off in the underground testing facility. The resulting explosion is the Pripmann disaster. The explosions also caused the large deposit of Uranium running from the Cordon to Pripmann to become critical, causing a nuclear chain reaction that will carry on for thousands of years. The radiation emitted will not be harmful, but the heat liberated is the cause of the area's foggy and humid landscape which used to be devoid of such a thing. According to later reports received by the Diary of Cestlep, the chain reaction below the area is continually generating small amounts of warpstone. This means the Zone is slowly expanding.

While entertained on the reading I heard heavy steps in the hall outside of the office. So heavy, in fact, that I thought it was an elephant. I quickly stored the documents, closed the door and barricaded the room with metal cabinets and desks. Whatever was coming easily heard my commotion and rushed towards my position. It began clawing at the door, and through the cracks between the rubble I saw its gigantic claws tearing the door's steel apart like butter. It was a feline with two heads and a massive, muscular body. I began firing at it with the AKM, easily penetrating the steel door and hitting it at least a dozen times. Yet it kept moving, seeming very annoyed. At a point it became angry and charged the barricade, easily sending everything flying away into the room. A desk hit my abdomen and I fell into the floor. The feline looked at me menacingly as it would a defeated prey, and lunged towards me with ridiculous speed. I panicked and sprayed its general direction with automatic fire and it fell right besides me. Still alive it tried to claw at me, narrowly missing, and I managed to shoot thrice into its skull with aimed shots. It stopped moving. I dropped the magazine, loaded a new one and quickly ran away.

I think I was trying to run towards the exit, but I stumbled upon some kind of basement. I explored deeper and deeper, in my mind looking for an exit, while really going ever deeper into the wolf's den. Eventually I think I arrived at what used to be an extremely large facility. "Testing Area" was written in a large white script besides a massive busted blast door. Inside there was a very spacious room, at least two hundred meters wide by two hundred meters long. The Geiger counter was going crazy. In the middle of it all, revealed by the flashlight, stood a huge, monolithic black object. I got closer to it. It was pulsating like a heart and looked like it was made from some sort of biomass, but by touch it felt metallic and hard. I felt horribly nauseous but curious. I felt like it realised my presence but chose to spare me, and spit out some sort of small blue orb. I put the orb inside my backpack, gave the mass a lame "thanks" out of reflex and came back to my senses. Whatever I was doing there, my now conscious mind disapproved of it and I went back the way I came. I no longer felt any need to go deeper, and no curiosity either. As a fully rational person in total control of myself, now I felt a terrible urge to go away as far as I could from this god forsaken place. Outside of the blast door I saw two large eyes looking at me, and the flashlight revealed what lay in front of me. Another clump of biomass, but this one was most certainly alive and moving. In fact it was looking at me with a hungry expression. It was like a very large head with severely deformed human facial features, two little arms with claws and gigantic thick legs. Even though it was extremely wide and large, it was also two and a half meters tall surpassing my own height by quite a fair bit. It screamed and charged towards me, and by sheer luck I was able to avoid its relentless attack. The concrete walls broke and trembled at the contact with its head. I emptied the magazine of my rifle on its back and quickly replaced it with another spare, but the bullets did no apparent damage to it. Preparing its charge, which I would most certainly not avoid, I was faced with two options. I could empty another magazine or use the RPG-2. I chose the latter and carefully aimed between the corners of the mouth and the almost non existent nose. As it charged I fired, if the missile was a split second late the sheer mass of that thing would have crushed me into a paste. The high explosive anti tank shell penetrated its skull with an extremely loud crack and filled its innards with molten copper and overpressure. Not even the most insane of creations born in hell could withstand mankind's answer to the strongest armour they could fabricate. It stopped moving and fell some meters away from my feet.

I kept running away, from the buildings, from the facility, from the area. I met a couple of hostile "Stalkers" and dispatched them with careful aimed fire, at no point stopping from my escape. I went through fields, villages and finally the Aombom river. The Cordon soldiers received me with yelling and aimed rifles, but eventually took me in. A blowout was happening when my wounds were being treated, but the Cordon was out of the affected area. Still the thundering and ominous coloured skies were certainly visible and reminded everyone that the Zone exists, and it is no joke. Or perhaps it is God's idea of humour, a very dark and disturbing humour. I was drinking a cup of tea a few hours after arriving, recovering from my wounds, when she was dragged in. My guide had survived, but she was badly wounded and seemed to be starving. Still, although I really did have no connection with her, I felt strangely happy and glad.

[Oceanyka]

Intertravel: Rest and Rearm

---

We stayed at the Cordon for a couple days and then moved to New Kursk where we slept for two whole weeks, far longer than we originally planned. I no longer felt like myself after venturing into the Zone. Rather than being cheerful and careless I was on edge and attentive most of the time. Nothing seemed as it was. While gloomy and foggy, New Kursk still seemed far more welcoming than the Cordon or God forbid the Zone. Still, the apparent feeling of warmth and security did not feel anything more than synthetic and fake. I think the feeling went down after the first week.

A new worry beset me; I knew nothing about my guide and mostly left her to her own devices. The joint experience in the Zone did make me feel I had an obligation to know who she is and why is she here. We sat down to talk near the market. Her name was Jeong Seo-yun (the locals called her June, so I did the same) and she was born in the city of Pyongyang, 1942. Enduring the period of the World Wars her family ultimately left in 1945 under the threat of communist invaders and guerillas. Her family settled in what was a smaller Tombsman. After over a decade of discrimination her family was accepted as part of the community. Her mother died of typhus during the travel and her father died only two years ago in a business venture outside of the Black Valley, infected by headworms. She has a fifteen year old brother that works in the Confederate Militia. Apparently she had been working as a reporter for the local newspaper when she was contacted by the Diary of Cestlep for a special assignment, which her employer approved of. No sane person would accept a job that involved what we went through, and seeing as she had not mentioned giving up, I asked her about her determination to follow through. She told me that the Valley had always fascinated her and she felt a deep curiosity to explore its mysteries, whatever the cost. It took her in and she wished to know everything about it. So a very curious person.

I decided the occasion should never repeat itself. Starting from the third day of our stay we wandered off to the field of a farmer that very kindly received us, every single day for six hours. During these mornings I taught June some basics of outback survival and, most importantly, to shoot. During her Zone experience she was beaten and almost raped while in the edge of starvation, so self-defense and auto-sufficiency were skills that she very eagerly tried to learn. Before we left the town of New Kursk for good I bought ammunition, food, water, some equipment and sold my flak vest. I was about to board the boat when I realised it was pointless to continue while she was still dressed in nothing more than a light dress and working boots, carrying only a few things in a small backpack. "This won't do" I thought, and asked the sailor to wait for a bit. I bought one of the new imported Soviet battle uniforms, an American helmet and real infantry boots for her. I also bought a lightweight backpack, more miscellaneous utility equipment, a Belgian FN FAL with some ammunition and from the black market an artifact which supposedly cast a field with very high ballistic protection when held tight. With this I felt ready and we went back to the dock.

The river seemed as beautiful as it had always been. Coniferous trees all around blooming in this spring season and people going around without really disturbing the marvelous view. Something didn't feel quite right anymore though. Synthetic as I called it before. The travel took longer because we were going against the river, rowing upwards. Still we managed to reach our objective a few hours later. The dock was clean and busy with people from all walks of life wandering around and eager merchants loading or dropping off goods. A tall hill was in front of us with a road passing through and many little houses spread around. We walked up for a good ten minutes and saw the massive hole. They called this town Orthos, and the titanic geographic anomaly the Abyss.

()

[Oceanyka]

Chapter Seven: Orthos I

---

The lovely town reminded me of Tombstone's valley town layout, but circular in shape and in a much more compacted area. Practically everything was facing towards the massive hole in the centre of it all. Despite there being plenty of space in the borders of the crater-like hill around the abyss, there were multiple overhangs quite literally inside of the thing. Although, to be fair, the furthermost sections were rather isolated by a small river surrounding the entire crater and bridge crossings were only a few. Some of the overhangs appeared to be very stable like the descent platforms, from which people came and went, while others seemed like they would come crashing down at any minute. The people were lovely, active and cheerful if a bit reckless. Due to the surprisingly steep crater-hill's slope there were many places where a fall could prove dangerous, but I saw dozens of kids playing and running down and yet not even one fell. My view of the abyss was limited by what appeared to be a fog, but I am completely certain that there was some sort of temperate forest climate down there. Strange birds which had to be endemic to the local habitat flew above the kilometers wide gap in the earth, quite a few even came out and flew right above our heads. I was honestly surprised at the sheer scale of the abyss, I estimate it measured about two kilometers in diameter.

Our first order of action was to meet up with a contact of ours, so we headed towards the location we had been given. Directions were hard to get because most of the signs were written in the town's local language, but fortunately most people spoke English. Unfortunately our visit wasn't very welcome. June didn't feel anything, apparently locals can easily discern each other, but I am most certain there were heavy gazes on me since our arrival. After a few hours we finally found the saloon where our contact would meet us. The barkeeper gave me a suspicious look and immediately went back to his menial tasks. I asked him if he had seen a lost blue puppy. "Yes, marching down and around in the Berlin Square". He diverted his gaze towards the door behind him and went back to cleaning a shot glass. I went in discretely without attracting too much attention. Inside I found a man impatiently tapping at the floor. He was tall and slender, with a fedora and coat like those old mobsters of the 20s. A bit ridiculous in a town of people dressed like miners and labourers, but to each their own.

"Do you have any idea of how late you are?"

"A bit late yea~"

"TWO WEEKS! We've been sitting around doing nothing, because 'oh please wait for the reporters' for TWO WEEKS. You are lucky the Diary pays well."

Before he could rant any further June intervened, "We are... terribly sorry about this. We got stuck in New Kursk because of some really important problems that could not be avoided."

"That is no justification! Whatever, follow me."

He led us through the neatly stacked barrels and bottles until we found a hatch in the floor. Inside was a wooden ladder that we used to go down. A dimly-lit hallway led to a heavy steel blast door with a keypad. After punching in a few numbers he opened it and let us go inside. It appeared to be some sort of repurposed bunker complex, now busy with white coat scientists and armor-clad soldiers going about their business. I didn't recognise the flag in the wall. "Come on now, the boss is waiting for you," he said while walking towards a fancy wooden door. I turned the handle and pushed, meeting eye to eye with the top brass: Kalin Varada. He offered me and June a seat with a hand gesture, so we followed suit and sat in front of his ebony desk. "Good afternoon!" he greeted us.

"I suppose you have a reason to be this awfully late," he said while twirling a pen in his hand "and I'd like to hear it now."

"Well, you see, I underestimated the whole place a bit." The short justification was understood immediately.

"I see. I've seen many with that kind of mindset. You're lucky to be alive. I suppose you brought the girl into the Zone, too. The fact she is here is an absolute miracle."

"A miracle it is sir, but I'm confident it won't be left to chance again."

"Very well, she can stay here now," but he was interrupted by June, who almost jumped out of her seat.

"No! I want to go, too! What was the point in coming here instead of going back to Tombstone if I just sit in this bunker?"

"The girl has a point, sir. I've taught her to aim and run. Her survival isn't entirely up to luck now."

"It is your decision. Bring her down then. And bring a shovel to bury her, too."

The morbid comment wasn't appreciated, but the fate of my mission depended on whether this man decided to escort us down or not. I talked to him a bit about what these people were on about.

"We're scientists first and foremost. But we also believe in free speech and think the world should know about the beauty of the Black Valley, so we live down here to prevent us from getting lynched by an angry mob."

Then we discussed our operation. A team of six fighters and a doctor, including Varada, would escort us down to the fifth layer and back up. We could keep anything we found or captured and every recorded event would be allowed to be published. Enough equipment and ammunition would be carried to ensure survival for months. After our little talk a handshake was exchanged and exited the room. The operation would begin in two days. Originally we had a week to prepare, but due to our late arrival we had much less time. It's more than enough, I thought.