Data log; Commence Upload.
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> Parameter string <memories>
<Isolate<Rush>>
<Initiate>
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Green Light. Commence Dictation, Soldier.
Hello. For posterity, I would hasten to add that I am unsure how long I will remain in control.
I should start at the beginning.
Approximately a year or so ago, I crash landed my vessel on this planet known as Earth; It inhabits an unknown sector of space that I accessed via a rift, and the inhabitants of the nearby moon base have enforced their embargo with gusto. Losing altitude and hope, I initiated the standard mind wipe protocol to keep Warlock Alliance intel out of enemy hands.
It seems there was a malfunction. The mind wipe did not, as I had hoped, selectively wipe knowledge of our secrets. Rather, I believe it regressed me to a point in my life before I ever had access to such knowledge.
As I entered the academy before my adolescence... That regressed personality is worrying.
The contrast in our shared power level and drastically different levels of maturity and responsibility has already created problems for my integration with the locals; The initial contact of this "Rush" persona has solidified my reputation among those I have met as a wild card at best; I have no choice now but to play to this strength.
It's times like this I wonder what the Prince of All Elves would have done... and I suppose I must emulate his legendary strength and bravado if I have any hope of surviving this savage, primitive world. It seems only through a sustained bout of heightened emotion can I maintain my own psyche. Even now I am maintaining a veneer of anger through prolonged contact with a fellow traveler whose hatred of the moon, while for the entirely wrong reasons, makes us cautious allies.
Oh hello! This is talking device from future, yes?
It does not produce vodka, Artyom.
The future... It is lame, yes? Bah. Artyom does not care, anyway. The moon is out. If Artyom is lucky, his harpoons may find target. Only things needed are perseverance, harpoons, rocket fuel, and vodka.
Where is vodka?
As you can see, my situation is quite grim.
And don't even get me started on the robots...
It's times like these I thank the gods I learned a spell to control this planet's magnetic fields...
With the way the robot warrior women of this planet behave, I have a feeling I may need it soon.
It's times like this I wonder what the Prince of All Elves would have done... and I suppose I must emulate his legendary strength and bravado if I have any hope of surviving this savage, primitive world. It seems only through a sustained bout of heightened emotion can I maintain my own psyche. Even now I am maintaining a veneer of anger through prolonged contact with a fellow traveler whose hatred of the moon, while for the entirely wrong reasons, makes us cautious allies.
Oh hello! This is talking device from future, yes?
It does not produce vodka, Artyom.
The future... It is lame, yes? Bah. Artyom does not care, anyway. The moon is out. If Artyom is lucky, his harpoons may find target. Only things needed are perseverance, harpoons, rocket fuel, and vodka.
Where is vodka?
As you can see, my situation is quite grim.
And don't even get me started on the robots...
It's times like these I thank the gods I learned a spell to control this planet's magnetic fields...
With the way the robot warrior women of this planet behave, I have a feeling I may need it soon.