Lords of Creation, The Second Age

[Philote]

Anima hides his presence as the Spymaster leaves. Already mortals were swarming over the building he had just left. Some rushing out to spread the word, while others rushed in to speak with the source, Lee. Amidst the crowd, Anima spots Moss and follows him as he spreads the word to his superiors.

The embassy building sat on Spectropolis' shore. A large building that served as the main political communication point between Eternus and Spectropolis within the city. The building extended over the waters with a circular pool opening for the Gills.

Anima watches as Moss speaks with his superiors, a Human and a Shardmind, and shadows them as they make preparations for travel to Eternus.

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

"Yup, that it is," Magnas replies. "Shall we let you stay here for a little while to drown in joy and excitement or shall we get going to see Crav, though I'm sure that with all the time he's been waiting for you, he can wait a little bit longer as you get acquainted with Skywing the Seaborne Temple."

[Marvelous Miscreant]

Midday and the City center of Ah-Lomas was buzzing with activity. The celebrations for the Festival were not as intense here in the Trade Capital of Alabastra but they still occurred. Banners, streamers and ornaments hung all around the square, yet the mood was far from festive. A tension filled the air. Recent conflict between the Durhians and Milteo had left the populace tense and on edge.

All across the square groupings of Durhian traders and crafters eyed Milteo workers with distrust and vice versa. It was on one side of the square that a Durhian inventor was tinkering with a large brass machine of some kind. He grunted as he realized a piece was missing and turned around to his tool box for the part.

It was this momentary lapse in awareness, an event so small, that caused the catastrophe of following events. As the Durhian looked away he did not notice the small goblin dart from the shadowy alleyway and crawl quickly into the machine. Once inside, it did what goblins do best, it wrecked havoc. The machine sputtered and creaked, smoke billowing from it's sides.

As this happened, A Milteo worker happened to pass close by the machine, unaware of the event occurring near him.

From here the chain events spiraled out of control.

The Durhian inventor looked up to see a Milteo worker near his machine and smoke rising from his beloved contraption. He jumps immediately to the conclusion that the Milteo is responsible. He becomes furious and in his rage he strikes the Milteo, who falls to the ground. The Durhian stands over the Milteo and curses down at him. The Milteo becomes furios as well and strikes back, his long claws slicing the Durhian's chest.

The sqaure draws silent as onlooking Durhians glare at the offending Milteo. A mob forms, they attack the Milteo. Other Milteos nearby run to their fellow Milteo's aid and soon an all out brawl breaks out.

The fight escalates and soon the entire city is at arms.

[Zaleramancer]

"I.. I am sorry. I thought he might be one of those.. things." The shifter said as she drew her voluminous desert clothing close, contemplating the fact that she may have just committed sacrilege.

"Please help me. My friend has been taken-"

As she spoke, something changed. The oppressive silence and twisted isolation of the alleys lifted. Even the strange scent vanished like fading smoke.

A look of anguish flickered over the shifter's face, before desert stoicism took hold.

"It is to late. They are gone."

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

The Babysitter sat up almost immediately, suddenly all business.

"What things?"

She gently lays her hands on the shifters shoulders.

"Tell me how I can help."

[Marvelous Miscreant]

"They just Flooded the city! With water! How could anyone be so reckless!?" Sonia gasped.

[Marvelous Miscreant]

Stohlen and Morlanna panted for breath as they hid atop one of the many building nearby. They'd climbed up from a dark alley to the side of the building and now rested, out of sight. As they caught their breath Stohlen stamped out a patch of smouldering feathers on his cloak. They'd caught fire after his near escape from the exploding bar. After extinguishing the smoking garment Stohlen crept to the edge of the room and peeked out across the street to see the now blazing inferno that was once a bar.

"Well, that was certainly interesting. Wasn't it Morlanna?"

"Yes, sir."

Stohlen continued to watch the scene outside the bar as the City Watch dragged away the Bartender.

"Hmm, he might be a liability..." he muses to himself

[Marvelous Miscreant]

"I'd like to stay, if only for a little while." Aox mumbled as he made his way to the front of the pews to stand before the multitude of altars, each representing a different god. He circled them each in turn, his steps slow and deliberate. As he studied them, a memory stirred in the back of his mind.
 
A horrible visage, the staff calling out to him, sorrow, fear. It all streaked through his mind like a bolt of lightning. Aox collapsed in a pew. His memories of the Void were returning and he didn't like what he saw.

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

"Oh, I don't think it's really that much water." Says Thither, as a shallow layer of water begins to flow from the alleys around the wall. "It's just that it was all, y'know, here. Spread out it's not nearly as much."

"Enough to effectively ruin my good shoes." Hither says, quickly taking off a pair of fine black shoes as the puddles splashes up against the soles. He holds them over his shoulder and looks dismissively at Thither. "Of course, the socks are going to be unsalvageable."

Despite, or perhaps because of, the excitement Flash Street was coming alive before them. Tourists and wanderers, drawn by the sounds of battle, where already being accosted by sellers were already screaming out of talismans and lucky charms. Strange old cauldrons gave of unusual smells of lavender, or cinnamon, or monkshood. Palm readers, mind readers, and Spectropomancers offered in loud voices to unlock the secrets of the fate for a few dollars. The salty smell of the sea permeated the air, perhaps adding to the feeling of wonder and mystery.

You can already hear some people claiming credit for the wall. Thither laughed. "Just as well." He said. "If people knew a goddess was among them they'd either be freaking out, or trying to filch a piece of her as some ingredient. Come on! Lets see what they have to offer!"

(Marv. Make up some magic things.)

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

The Market Watchouse on Shader Street was not a terribly ornate place, a modest building of imposing grey stone that rose just a head taller than the other buildings around it. On the front, lit by the constantly burning basins, was a simple brass plate naming this as an official watchouse. Flanking it on either side where the soft triangular shields of the watch emblem. The doors were wooden and, in contrast to the stonework, painted a friendly blue and stood open to the street.

As Captain Shining Happy People climbed up the steps to these doors, she could see that the watchmen within were bustling with activity. Festival days, this festival in particular, always caused a spike in crime by people thinking they could get away with it with so many extra people taking up Watch attention or tourists who either hadn't bothered to learn the law, were ignorant of how law was enforced in Spectropolis, or simply thought themselves good enough to get around it.

As she entered a hush fell over the room as everyone looked up. As the newest captain of the watch she was often under a certain deal of scrutiny from her fellow watchmen. This was only amplified by the fact that this was not her regular beat. She was in charge of Residential. This was Market.

"Interim-Captain!" Came a shout from behind a couple of big, shackled Goliaths who had been busted for street fighting. A Kata, short, with a bowl cut of black hair and a striped bandana wrapped around his eyes, made his way around the big men and saluted. Shining returned the gesture, and the Kata waved his hand for her to follow.

"Is the prisoner secure, Sargent Hinata?" She asked along the way.

"Yes Ma'am. We had no problems transporting Mr. Cort to the Watchouse. He has agreed to to testify for as as to the pair who killed all those people in his bar if we drop the Illicit substance charges and agree not to revoke his license."

"We could revoke his license?" Shining asked.

"Yes." Said a Witness, who had been walking behind her so silently she hadn't even been able to tell it was there. She looked over her shoulder at it. It was probably the one that had reported the crime to her. It kept speaking. "The first crime I felt in this chain of events was Refusing Service to Another Sentient of Basis of Race, Gender, or Religion."

"Cort was on his third strike for that." Said Hinata.

As they walked into the interrogation viewing room, where they could see Cort the barman at a squat wooden table through the glass, Shining walked up and put her hand on the glass separating the rooms, looking the man she' d saved up and down. He was a complete wreck, face red and bloated, shoulders burned, and with a look of absolute dejection on his face.

"Seems like a bit of an overreaction to not getting a drink, killing all his patrons and blowing up his bar." She said.

"I then sensed both Conspiracy to Cause a Breach of the Peace, then Attempted Assault." The Witness continued.

"Then?" Shining asked.

"Petty Theft. After that, Murder One. Then several more Murders in quick succession. It was at this point I set out to find a watchman."

"Self Defense, then?" Said Hinata.

"No." Said Shining gravely. "You didn't see him. He smiled at me. He stood smiling in a room full of death. This wasn't some poor bastard that walked into the wrong part of town. Take Cort's description and send a runner to the printing office. I want his face plastered all over the city by the end of the day."

"Ma'am!" Hinata saluted, and walked out of the room.

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

The Gilgamesh Memorial Coliseum, the largest such arena in the entire city of Spectropolis, normally sat empty in the Entertainment district. Now however, it was bustling with the preparation and anticipation of it's namesake: The Gilgamesh Memorial Gran Prix, a three day celebration of one on one combat. So large was the arena, so loud were the fans filling the stands, that those within did not even notice the dying wave that dumped Crav somewhere south of it.

Within, an almost electric energy filled the air. Streamers and banners were held aloft by the people, citizens and out-of-towners alike, in support of their favorites. The stand looked down into a huge pit seemingly filled with dirt with the exception of a large stone square, the arena itself, which was currently being calibrated by sorcerers from the Academy. They went along the edges, checking and rechecking the magical formulas etched into the ring itself. The four nodded to one another and retreated away from the edges as a Boquabian man, sharply dressed in a red suit with a desert rose placed in the lapel, stepped away from the wall he had been leaning on and hopped into the ring. His skin was yellow, and his hair a wild shock of white that matched the patch that covered his right eye. He stopped, and stamp twice of the sorcery circle engraved into the center of the arena. The circle lit up a bright green, and the man spoke with a voice that easily drowned out the energetic spectators.

"Hello, fight fans!" He said jovially, spreading his arms wide. The crowed erupted, and the man couldn't help but smirk at the sound. "Welcome, one and all, to the 399th Gilgamesh Memorial Grand Prix. A contest where dreams are made and heroes are born, where all class and caste are stripped away, and where the only things that matter are strength, skill, and ingenuity."

More cheers. The man went on. "The winner of this tournament will receive wealth, glory, and the prestige of owning this!" The Man snaps his fingers and points up toward the top of the coliseum. Heads turn as, in a burst of fire, a man in golden armor appears holding up an ornate gold belt. The belt is decorated with dragons motifs, and in the center sits a giant G. "The Gilgamesh Memorial Belt, who's wielder is acknowledged worldwide to best exemplify the legacy of our dear departed god, who went to his last shining breath defending this world." More cheers and gasps as the golden man takes a flying leap down into the arena with a crash that should shatter bones and certainly enough to put cracks into the elaborate gold costume, only to stand and lift the belt into the air above his head. The Boquabian bows. "I am, as always, your humble commentator: Former Champion "Dead Rose" Barsolono and here with me to explain the rules of this years tournament is its Adjudicator! Co-Commentator! And former three time champion: "Great Gold Wyrm" Gil-ga-mesh!!!!

The man in the golden armor flexes and it shatters like an explosion went off within it. Standing there, in much more modest watcher grey armor, is a brown haired human the size of most Goliaths, bear forearms rippling under the Spectropolis sun. Just below his hair it is possible for some to spot the head of a golden dragon, part of the large tattoo that adorned his back. Barsolono respectfully moves to the side so Gilgamesh can stand in the magic circle. When he speaks, it's in a deep, clear voice and a level tone that radiate confidence.

"This tournament is a single elimination, one-on-one affair. The brackets will be drawn randomly. There are three ways to eliminate your opponent: Knock-out, submission, or..."

He nods to the sorcerers, who immediately put their hands on the ground and begin channeling power. The air around the rings seems to distort for a moment. Barsolono runs over to the edge of the rind and taps the air in front of him. There's a golden light as a barrier refuses to allow him to push his hand outside the boundaries of the ring. He throws his hand up in mock confusion, drawing a few laughs from the crowed, before drawing his fist back and striking the wall. It crackles, screams, and finally shatters into illusionary shards of glass that spray harmlessly into the dirt before vanishing. Barsolono rolls his shoulder and blows on his now smoking knuckle for effect.

"...are struck with enough force to send them through this barrier and onto the ground outside of the ring." Gilgamesh finishes. He continues then, his voice taking on an edge of dire seriousness. "Any foul play detected before a match will result in immediate disqualification. Any attacking an opponent who has submitted or been rendered unable to fight will result in immediate disqualification. The accidental death of your opponent will result in immediate disqualification. The intentional death of your opponent will result in immediate disqualification, followed by arrest and prosecution under Spectropolis law."

He crosses his arms and is silent for a moment, to allow his words to sink in. Then he continues, more heartily. "Lets us make this a contest to remember. Let all these brave warriors earn glory and respect. Let the one who remains at the end wear the champions belt honorably, in the knowledge that they represent the heroic spirit of Gilgamesh!" He pumps his fist in the air. "Of great and mighty God of conflict, we dedicate the sweat and blood shed here today to you! May these warriors burning spirits light your way and give you warmth, wherever you may be! I hereby declare the 399th Gilgamesh Memorial Grand Prix has begun!"

The crowed goes wild.

Underneath the arena, in the basement of the stadium where the hopeful fighters gathers, Loki Pawns sits in silent contemplation. All that Barsolono and Gilgamesh had said had been relaid to the fighters earlier, in person. The spectacle up there was just that: pure spectacle.

[Marvelous Miscreant]

The various vendors, merchants and stall owners came from every corner of the map. Each one was a different race, height, ski tone and shape. Their wares were just as unique.

One vendor, a man wearing more jewelry than could possibly be feasible, held out samples of enchanted cloths and silks. Each one shimmered, flickered and danced with different colors, patterns and shapes. Some even seemed to move of their own accord.

A larger Kata woman in a bright yellow blindfold sat in her small tent, calmly smoking a pipe. Before her, rested dozens of carved stones. A handwritten sign nearby identified them read: "Source Stones: For Quick Fires, Waters and Winds"

A Durhian stood in the street further down the way, blowing bubbles from a metal wand. The bubbles took on all sorts of strange shapes. Cubes, flowers and even cats formed in the air and popped with silly sounds and noises.

A Boquabian couple called out to the crowd claiming magical beautifying properties of the various brushes, mirrors and perfumes they held up.

Even further down the street crowd gathered around a boisterous Dwarf and his small wooden puppet that seemed to be dancing a merry jig without any strings.

Sonia gasped at each new wonder, her eyes lighting up like a child’s. Her amazement at the ingenuity of mortals knew no bounds.

[Zaleramancer]

"But of course. Witnesses of any kind always are." The woman from the tavern slunk out of the shadows once more, still puffing that same cigarette.

"Now, if only you were to know someone who could deal with those sorts of problems. Someone who could make.. arrangements."

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

Hither cleared his throat. "If you should see anything you happen to want, by all means ask me. Not that I would do anything to suggest you could not afford these trinkets, but I have a strict personal code against allowing my companions to pay for anything in my presence." He says, smiling. Despite his reservations and his ruined suit, he seems to be enjoying himself.

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

The magical spat between the head of the Academy and the most dangerous hobo in the land had transformed into a full on fight that had made it's way into the still soggy commons of the academy. Students cautiously suck their heads out windows in hopes of seeing their Headmistress throw down with their most hated enemy, chattering and jeering.

Thunder rumbled high in the sky over the Academy, emanating from a deep black storm cloud that seemed to spring into spontaneously form on the otherwise sunny day, and only over this one spot. Under this cloud, standing ankle deep in the still draining water that had flooded the commons, Knox and Minerelle faced one another. Though invisible to most, Minerelle could see sharp yellow energy that had stirred up the cloud slowly float down and wrap itself around Knox and the blue sigh that Minerelle knew was her battery. Except for one strand, one tiny little piece of a the spell that tethered her to the sky. She reached quickly into her back pocket. She hadn't come expecting a serious fight. None of the other headmasters had ever attacked her before.

As she did so, the Headmistress flicked her wrist and the yellow network flashed red for a single moment. Then there was a flash as lightning struck, like a viper out of the sky. It crashed into Knox, but didn't hurt her. Instead, it spread out among the yellow spell network around her body, converging in her index finger. Minerelle caught on just a moment to late.

"Divine Retribution!" Knox shouted, the lightning shooting from her finger having never touched her and coursing through Minerelle. The pain was brief, but terrible, and the Shardmind stumbled back as thunder roared, dizzy and aching. She grasped the thing in her pocket and hurled it, a prism that was already shining and beginning to come apart. "Crystal Pitching: Color of Potential!" She shouted, as the prism shattered into pure energy off every color of sorcery, as the each arced down toward Knox. She leaped back as the colors slammed into the ground around her, throwing up a wall of water. She extended a hand forward, prepared to call more lightning as soon as the water was clear. But then something blue and shining came through the water curtain, shattering into pure energy that enveloped her. It arched through her like lightning, pushing pure pain through every one of her nerves. It felt like all the strikes she had suffered developing her lightning channeling spell, but continuous. She felt to her knees along with the water, and looked up to see Minerelle holding three more blue crystals in her hands.

"Crystal Pitching." came the Shardmind's tinny voice. "Color of Agony!" She pitched all three, the shining missiles flying through the air on a collision course with Knox. Knox quickly got to work with her hands. She formed a square with both of her hands, then began furiously layering her fingers over one another, chanting. "Lightning, shield me from misfortune. Strike aside all who trespass against me with your heavenly might. Retribution Field!" She spread her hands, and the blue battery behind her surged with power to create the network of magic in front of her: a blue square, holding within a net of interlocking yellow lines. As the stones sailed through the net they took with the a sliver of it with them. It flicked up into the storm cloud, and as it touched it lightning arced down along each strand and struck the crystals, scattering them and their energy in brilliant blue explosions.

But Knox paid them no mind, and was already moving her hands again. She did the same motions for the field four more times in the blink of an eye, then threw her hands forward, up, left, right, and back. The battery gave another heave as four more of the blue field appeared around Minerelle, flying into position to box her in. With a flick of the wrist the original field shot forward, sealing the shardmind in to the cage of force. "Retribution Cell." she called coldly.

Minerelle looked around furiously, trying to find any weakness or gap in the field. "I wouldn't even try." Knox called over confidently. "You're lucky you have the training to see this: most wouldn't even know it's there. The more of the individual strands you touch, the more lightning is called down. You were able to shrug off one bolt, but enough lightning can even wear down stone, as they say."

"Water wears down stone, stupid, not lightning." Says Minerelle.

"SHUT UP!" Knox shouts. "I"M SAYING IF YOU MOVE THROUGH THE LINES THEY"LL END YOU!"

"WELL THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T USE STUPID METAPHORS!" Shouts back Minerelle, searching her cloak.

"HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON"T YOU MOVE!" Shouts Knox, throwing her hand forward. "Not that you could ever Pitch anything out of there, but if you try I'll fry you." she says with a grave look on her face. "If I shoot my lightning through the cage, it will trigger a bolt of lightning to strike it. And as that lightning comes down, it will trigger the cage coming in from above and add more power to the bolt. That's the force of three lightning strikes for the already miniscule cost of one. And with the mana I have stored in my battery I can keep that cage running for up to a week. You've lost, Minerelle Orr!"

A cheer goes up from the watching students, shouts of praise and exhilaration. Knox looks around, almost shocked at the sound, before flashing a little smile. Almost a whisper below the din, Minerelle says, "You've certainly put a lot of thought into these...."

"But of course." Knox says, pushing her golden hair out of her eyes. "My lighting channeling spells are all self-developed. I sacrificed my blood and sweat working on these spells." A look of bitterness flashes across her face. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Excuse me....?" Asks Minerelle gravely, looking up and staring deeply into Knox's eyes.

Knox speaks, the anger of her words almost palpable. "It's all well and good for shardminds and the rest of you Eternians. You didn't develop anything yourself, instead having everything handed to you by your god long ago. You've never had to work around a low personal mana supply. You've never had to find a creative work-around to get your spells running. Every spell you've ever cast has come to you naturally as breathing. You haven't even used any real spells, instead resorting to pitching; magic in it's easiest, most simplistic form. I guess you were thrown out because even your own spells were to complicated for you. Compare yourself, who's had everything placed daintily into her lap, and me, who bled and worked and sacrificed for her craft. The winner becomes obvious in hindsight, doesn't it?" she says, letting a little smugness seep out right at the end.

Minerelle stands and takes all this, silently staring at the ground all the time. "Sacrifice?" she says quietly. Minerelle raises her head just enough for Knox to see her eyes, blazing in hatred. "What does a pampered little doll like you know of sacrifice OR MY HOMELAND!?"

Minerelle pulls a perfect red crystal and a cracked, dim blue one from her pockets.  She tosses them both at the field. "Crystal Pitching: Color of Hatred!" Both break through the yellow lattice, the parts they carry with them streaming into the sky. Lightning streams down to intercept them. But as the lightning nears the cracked blue crystal, it veers off. Both bolts collide and strike the red crystal, shattering it.

Knox had already throw out her arm. The strand of yellow connecting her to the cloud flashed red. "Three Pronged Retribution!" She said, channeling the lightning. It smashed through the field, attracting one bolt, which attracted another, and all three combined to strike Minerelle dead center. The force of it threw her off her feet, burning a hole straight through the many layers of cloaks she wore.

Meanwhile, the cracked blue crystal had reached Knox, glowing and arcing as the power of creation unmade it. Minerelle just managed to get out a few last words as she lost consciousness. "Self pitching." She croaked. "Psionic Despair Storm."

The blue crystal unmade itself, unleashing another wave of blue energy that enveloped Knox. What she experienced wasn't like before. There was still pain, much more pain, agonizing pain that shot right to the core of her being. But underneath it was a deep pit of despair, the kind that makes you want to find a hole and remain in the pain, forever, because deep down you knew you deserved it. Images flashed before her eyes, a tapestry of colors and sounds that made no sense.

red triangles

a tower

black bars

something heavy being dragged across the floor

brown

shattering

teeth

Then only black.

Both woman hit the ground at the same time, and neither stirred. A scream went up from the halls of the building.

On a nearby roof, a pair of figures sat. One was a Witness, it's purple cloak identifying it as Custodes. The other was as equally purple Boquabian with short green hair and immaculately polished watch armor. She wore her own grey coat on her shoulders, letting the arms flap in the wind. She started clapping her hands, then put her fingers in her hand and whistled. "Oh what a wonderful show. I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. The plot was a little thin, but I give it props for the use of special effects. Four out of Five stars. Thumbs up! Hahahahaha!" She turned to Custodes. "Dissenting opinion, Commander?"

Custodes ignored her, staring up at the dissipating thundercloud. "Why do they have to make trouble today?"

"Commander?" The Boquabian asks, confused.

"Never mind." Says Custodes. "Shows over, Captain Debutant. It should be safe for our people to move in now."

"Yes sir." Said Entertainment Watch Captain Darla Debutant. She called out over the side of the roof. "ALL UNITS MOVE IN AND DETAIN THE SUSPECTS FABULOUSLY!"

[Marvelous Miscreant]

Stohlen straightened up and turned to face the mystery women. A wide gleaming smile filled his face as he stepped forward.

"Normally I don't make deals with those I don't know, but after that neat little trick at the Bar, you certainly have my attention."

Morlanna sputtered at Stohlen's statement, "But..but sir. We don;t know wh-"

"Nonsense, Morlanna," Stohlen cut in, "I'm sure we can trust Miss......?"

[Philote]

The tide of information begins to build and sweep across Eternus. The occasional rumor being exchanged for heated discussion as news flows in from the southern port.

"I heard that he is performing miracles within Spectropolis' own borders!"

"The Pantheon is sweeping across the seas as we speak!"

"New Heroes are being formed out of anyone found worthy!"

The change in atmosphere is enough to grab the attention of those most thoroughly invested in magical and mechanical debate, including the Spirit Von Trapt, for Anima had sought him out even in his mortal guise.

"Greetings Von Trapt. I believe that we have much to discuss" Anima says, arriving in Von Trapt's presence. Anima's own spirit was as hidden as Von Trapt's, but no illusion was left for the mortals to see or hear.

[Marvelous Miscreant]

Von Trapt quickly dismissed the two mages he'd been debating with.

"We'll continue this later boys, I promise. Now scram!"

The two shuffled out of the room quietly as Von Trapt turned to face Anima. A warm smile spread across his face.

"Are my ears playing tricks on me? Anima?!"

[Philote]

"You are not deceived. It seems that I have returned from the grave to a world working without me or my pantheon, but I'd like to put an end to that. The Spymaster has told me of how you and your pantheon has watched of Eternus and I am pleased with your work, and now, I would like for you to stand with me as I take back my place watching over this land. I believe Gilgamesh would like me to continue to honor his alliance with Crav after all."

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

Away from the hustle and bustle of the festival, deep beneath the windswept dunes of the Spectropolis desert, serious things were being discussed.

The hole was a new one, dug specifically for this meeting. Around this shaft into the earth, watchdogs patrolled diligently, ears and noses open for any hint of something foreign to this place. Above the shaft, flouting at rapt watch high in the air, The Veteran scanned the desert. His gaze wavered, eyes falling upon the white walled city of Spectropolis far in the distance, and for a moment his face soured. "Hurry this up boss." He said to himself. "We're missing all the fun."

Down, down, down into the winding dark tunnel was a room with only three figures. One was large, he tan colored carapace glinted in the soft torchlight, sporting a waxy shine. Easily a giant among vandals, with a lower half so large that her second pair of arms hand transformed into legs to support it, and wrapped in exotic cloth and jingling beads Night Shining Brightly, Queen of the Vandals, cut a refined yet intimidating figure. She bore no tattoos, except on her massive forehead. On it were printed five golden stars.

Opposite sat someone who despite being dwarfed by her, looked just as well built. A being with looked as though she had four bulky armored layers of chitin instead of one. She stood on two strong legs, and the shell on her back outlined an ominous purple light from the barely visible crystal beneath. She wore no ornamentation, and there was no sighs to indicate that she, like her opposite, was pregnant with the next generation of Fomor-Gravi. Queen Fomor-Evil held herself on edge despite the fact that she had been the one to sue for peace. It wasn't because she expected betrayal, this was simply how the Queen had learned to hold herself in her short tenure as Queen.

Sitting between the two, seemingly holding back the murderous intent spewing from both sides of the room with his sheer presence, sat the Watchman like an ant between a pair of titans. He had been forced to step between them as hour two, because their simply was no discourse possible without someone to referee. There was two much hot blood in the room.

They had been at this for twelve hours, hashing out various grievances and agreements, niggling over the details of said agreements, throwing out terms that caused to much contentions, trying to find new terms that turned out to be just as contentious.... He was honestly starting to get sick of the whole mess. No, wait, he wasn't starting to get sick of it. He had started getting sick of it 360 years ago and had just gotten progressively more sick of it as the years had passed, truces had fallen through, and more people had died. He had started to believe that it would never end, that countries would rise and tumble and the bugs would be killing each other under the desert, that other races would travel to other worlds while the bugs were killing each other under the desert, that world peace would be achieved except for the bugs who were killing each other under the desert, that the crystal network would short out and suck all the surface dwellers into a perpetual dreamstate from which there was no escape and the only people who could possibly help wouldn't because they were to busy killing each other under the desert!

There was going to be lasting peace, even if they all had to stay in this hole forever.