Lords of Creation, The Second Age

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

The Babysitter squealed with delight as the little thing alighted on her finger. "Paean, oh my gosh. I could never make something like this.....safely. Hehe." she chuckled nervously. "What's it called?"

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

The Witness shakes his head in disappointment. "Well young master Loki, it appears that you were simply defending yourself. I'd still very much like to collect a statement from you at the station, however." Custodes made a hand motion, and the Lycanthropes were descended upon and their hands bound. Those that could still walk were escorted out of the alley, flanked by officers on either side.

The others were loaded up onto stretchers.

Then he went over the Gravi lying on the ground and picked her up by the arm like an angry school teacher.

"You!" He said, the anger in his voice palpable. "Attacking not only a guest, but a visiting dignitary. And during a ceasefire, I might add. I should have the gems ripped from your backs and toss you into Vandal lock-up. What have I made clear every time I've had to deal with one of your bastard race trying to make war in my city? Hum? Come on now."

The Gravi turned her head and grinned at him. "Never do it unless your sure you can win?"

The bug was sent sailing back to the ground, courtesy of a sharp backhand. Custodes motioned, and Witnesse descended and bound the Fomor-Gravi in much the same way the Lycanthropes had been. "Don't forget the one a street down." He said, walking back to Koneko.

"I certainly hope this experience is not the first thing you'll remember when thinking our fine city. I apologize terribly for this indignity."

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

"Don't worry, the first thing that comes to mind when I visit Spectropolis is the first Festival of Dancing Monsters."

Koneko looks at the position of the sun quickly then asks, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, may I leave now? I have a few errands to run that have to do with tournament applications."

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

"Of course, no trouble at all." Custodes replies, moving out of her way and bowing regally. "Do not allow me to detain you from your duties. I do wish your entrants luck in the festivities."

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

"Thank you," replies Koneko, bowing back to Custodes. "And I do hope that Mr. Loki is participating in the tournament, this year's entrants look to be quite amusing."

With all said and done, Koneko runs off to deliver the applications to the one in charge of the tournament.

====================================================

The woman in the cloak enters Spectropolis with a crowd of festive partygoers and sure enough, finds her powers reduced by the city's effect. She quickly makes her way into the city as deep as she can.

Not long after, the blades come to stop right outside the city limits and begin circling around, not willing to enter and lose their abilities.

[Marvelous Miscreant]

The Grand Forge of Spectropolis, normally echoing with sounds of work, was filled with the jaunty shouts and laughter of joy today. Crav's chosen disciples had closed the forges and locked up the tools for the festival, so that they and the God of Crafting himself may enjoy the festivities. However, as with every year before, they had not made it outside before becoming dangerously inebriated and begun singing old drinking tunes. As usual, Crav was in the midst of the revelry, swinging a pitcher of alcohol and singing along in hid deep baritone.

The disciples of Crav shared a unique bond with the God of Crafting, They were as friends and students to him, working along side him and learning. During the festivals they would celebrate with him as friends would. By this time, they had ceased singing and an eager disciple called out to Crav.

"Lord Crav, tell ush....tel ush again thur shtory abut....about how yoush made the Moon!" he slurred.

The other disciples cried out in agreement.

"Yush...Tell us! Tell us!"

The story was a favorite amongst the Disciples as it was perhaps one of the crowing achievements in Crav's Life. And So Crav launched into what was perhaps the 100th telling of the story that year.

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Sonia stared down into the crowded alleys and festive street of Spectroplis from her perch amongst the many arches of the buildings surrounding. She loved this time of year, when so many people were so happy. She longed to join them, but was always to shy to leave her watchful post.

From where she sat, she could hear the loud singing and cheering from the Grand Forge and smiled just a little to herself. Crav was in a rather good mood.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

A doe eye, the color of the midnight sky, cast a gaze into the Telescope set atop the highest mountain in Boquabia. Pushing aside clouds and looking off into the distance, the Fair Goddess let out a heady sigh.

Another glorious Festival of Dancing Monsters awaited her on the horizon. She could not wait to see how many Uburra-Namalls and Jassis and Jisseis and gods and monsters she would run into, amid the mortal throngs. One year, she remembered, a little blue boy had even made a mask of Draias, and a Broda mask for his green brother.

The Fair One turned back to her pantheon.

"So, is everyone ready to head out?" she asked, "Brother? Sisters? Son? Daughters? Heroes?"

Khadai stepped down from her cloud-made stool, turned back to her seven proteges, and on getting their nods of confirmation, looked back to Uburra-Namall, "Yeah, sure, we could go for some mischief."

Jassi perked up at Khadai's mention of 'mischief', rose from her cloud-made couch, and called back to eight proteges of her own, "And we'll be right there to set things right where people go wrong. Isn't that right, girls?"

The Eight-Virtue Virgins replied to their mistress with unified gusto, "Indeed."

And to think, Uburra-Namall mused internally, that those eight had once been gemstone statues made after her likeness; now they were just as much her daughters as the Seven-Sin Sisters. Yet, it seemed that the Precious Sentries in this new form still had yet to totally embrace their individuality. Funny how things changed, and yet managed to stay nearly the same.

[Philote]

Energy continues to build up around Anima's vessel, lashing out and scorching the sand it had washed up on. Violently, a surge of energy rushes up out of Anima, appearing as a bolt of lightning traveling in reverse. The energy dissipates into a static covered cloud that begins to drift away. Below, Anima's vessel is split along a crack running from the automaton's hip to its opposite shoulder. The lamp in its hands is broken in two, each part welded to the hand that was holding it.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

And speaking of changing, Uburra-Namall turned to the Heroes, who chatted among themselves.

"Tyran? Are you and your comrades ready?" she asked, smiling, "Don't use your demi-god immortality as an excuse to dilly-dally. We're on a schedule. And the only kind of late that's acceptable is fashionably late."

The Strong One replied, running a hand through his stark-white hair, "No worries, Mistress. I've got my sword. Mina has her tessen. Zai's got his mace. Revei's got his mallet. And Bo's got his staff. We're all primed and ready to move."

He didn't take his eyes off of her; even after all these years, his gaze hadn't lost its flirtatious twinkle. Though, now was not the time to entertain his boyish advances. A few remained to be checked on. Uburra-Namall cleared away a curtain of mist from the other side of their mountaintop abode, revealing Jissei, surrounded by three children.

"What do you want to do today, uncle Jissei?"

"You look bored!"

"Let's do something fun!"'

"Come on!"

"Yeah!"

"Let's go!"

The sight filled Uburra-Namall with glee. Jissei could pretend all he wanted, all hunkered down in that chair, scowling with his arms crossed. It was plain to see that he loved Uburra-Namall's children from Crav--her daughter, Arathet (child goddess of art), her son Erganon (child god of hard work and vigor), and her daughter Forgara (child goddess of technology and invention). And they loved him back...dear old uncle Jissei.

Uburra-Namall was on the verge of asking if he was ready, but he held up a disdainful hand, "Dear girl, I am not going to fraternize with those insufferable humans. Not one more day. I refuse. These three are quite a handful on their own...certainly you don't expect I'll contend with hundreds, maybe thousands more."

Though, his entreaty did nothing to impress on his sister's heart.

"We're going." she deadpanned, "That's final. Now are you ready or not?"

"Not." his face fell into his palm, expression falling into yet more disdain, "Not ready in the least. I mean, really. Just how does one prepare for the barrage? The utter chaos of revelry? The eating, the drinking, the noise, the smells..."

"I know!" Arathet clasped her hands together, gleeful, "Isn't it all exciting?"

"I can't wait to see the tournament!" Erganon chimed in, rubbing his hands together mischievously.

"And those parade floats!" Forgara followed, "They get fancier and higher tech every year!"

Jissei could only manage a resigned groan. With that he stood, ran his hands downward along his sides, changing into less casual attire--dark bluish-purple armor, over a black tunic--and called the Black Arsenal into hand, shaped like a simple staff. He was ready...or at least, ready as he was going to be.

And so, he joined the group, taking his place beside his twin sister. Khadai was on Jassi's opposite side, and each of their entourages were just to their flank. In the very rear were the Heroes, and in the very front stood Uburra-Namall with her three.

The fair goddess approached the edge of the mountain nearest Spectropolis, and reached out to the skies. A nearby cluster of clouds coalesced into a single cloud, gigantic, about the size of a large lake. And from it erupted a bright and beautiful rainbow. On any other day, it would be no more than a beautiful display of power. Today, though? Today, it would be their bridge to Spectropolis.

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

Lithe grey figures seemed to descend from the sky on either side of the vessel, flanking it on either side and scoring deep tracks in the sand. The pair of watchdogs paced around it nervously, emitting deep *PINGS* to one another occasionally. Nostrils and ears fanned out, as if trying to conform that the thing before them was in fact what they thought it was.

[Philote]

Anima's vessel was incapable of reacting. Minimal residual power could be felt after the last eruption, but it was not moving anywhere without repair.

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

The looked at one another, *PINGED* in unison, and bounded off.

Time passed, how much would be anyone's guess, before a shadow fell over the prone automaton. "Well, well, well." came a voice that voice so old and brittle Anima could feel the words shattering to pieces as they reached him. The shadow passed in front of him, revealing itself to be a tall black clothed tube, it's only defining feature a white porcelain mask.

"We always suspected, of course, that you boys were still somehow alive." She said, circling him like a shark. "Though we thought it to be in a more metaphorical sense."

Pale, skinny arms extended from beneath the black cloak and gripped the vessel as gently as they could, as though afraid that it would break in two. "Careless." She muttered. "Better to stay dormant than to revive in such a state. No telling what might have happened if the wrong people had come upon you first."

She lifted up and floated eerily still toward Spectropolis. "Come along and we'll see what that lush can do for you."

[Philote]

The vessel rests gently within the Spymaster's grip, the occasionaly weak spark the only sign that something still existed within the metal shell.

Across the waters, the static covered cloud that was ejected from the vessel drifts eastward and begins to condense.

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

Having made her way into the religious district, the cloaked woman begins subtly inquiring into the gods and current events going on, checking the temples one by one, before almost guffawing upon finding Mina's temple and looking contemplatively at Crav's temple. Having made her decision, the cloaked woman walked off to find the Grand Forge within Spectropolis.

[Zaleramancer]

"See it was righ-"

The draemar girl was dragging an old, robed dwarf down the beach.

She stared at where the automaton had been, gaping like a fish.

"But-"

"No more fun-juice for you. Dragging me all the way out here, should be ashamed." The gnarled old dwarf man glared at her, then started dragging her back the village. "I'm putting you in bed before you see something worse."

[Zaleramancer]

"I call them Abati." He smiled, "The current batch is nice, but there are a few bugs to work out."

Like the fact that they could should lasers. That would have to be fixed.

[Zaleramancer]

In the lands of Hazet, the celebrations were even more dramatic- if that's even possible.

Hardly surprising, this being one of the biggest rituals of the year.

In the city of Zotamar, capital of the Magocratic Empire, the celebrations could not have been more cartoonishly extravagant, baring a sudden outpouring of diamond rain.

The Sorcerers flew high above in the air, in chariots and astride winged steeds. Their parties were the things of legend, each one costing more than the income of a thousand of the lower classes. In their palaces and towers and, in a few cases, flying castles, these extravagant affairs explored as many acts of hedonistic indulgence as money and company could allow.

In a castle high above the ground, a banquet was in progress. Foods from across the world were served. Carefully prepared fish from the Northern depths, the fruit and wines of Boquabia, Great Beasts from the Outer Reaches, fine spices from Spectropolis.

While the aristocrats dined, servants were whipped into a flurry. The kitchens might as well have been a battle zone, dozens of wait-staff being send off periodically to battle the appetites of hungry nobles. Heat, steam and the smells of the food mixed with sweat and panic.

One of the waitresses snatched a wine pourer and began hustling out of the kitchen. She was a short, plump human woman with a frazzled air. Delma Nettle by name.

She really didn't want to be working here. Not in this place or this city. Not today or for the next week.

But at this point, the choice was no longer really hers. Delma was to frightened of talking to the head of staff about taking a vacation. She doubted that would happen, all things considered. As far as most of the people here were concerned, the staff was lower than dirt. Lower than worms.

As she shuffled down a hallway, trying to avoid tearing the ridiculous uniform she was forced to wear, she regretted only being able to send a letter back to her Mam on the coast. But that had been all she could afford.

Still lost in thought as she entered the vast banquet hall, her body went on auto, taking drinks and pouring them. Careful steps, smiles, pour, take empty glass, no eye contact, ignore drunken attempts at groping, let me get tha-

Delma clashed into a fancily dressed draemar man as he stood for a toast. Wine splattered all over his finery.

Her mind flew into a state of panic so pure that no thoughts could materialize.

Fury flashed across the man's face. His eyes burned.

A cold invisible hand seemed to grip Delma by the throat and lift her up to the man's height. She gasped and choked.

Pain rippled suddenly across her body, spasms and fury. Far off, she could hear the laughter of the assembled party goers.

After a very long minute, the pain ceased and Delma found herself flying backwards, slamming into a wall. Every part of her body ached.

Not a single bit of this terrified her more than when she looked up and met eyes with the man sitting at the end of the table. The owner of the castle.

While the others had gone back to not recognizing her existence, She could tell he was simply waiting for the party to end to deal with her personally.

Delma limped upwards, half-crawling to a door. The other staff members gave her the widest berth they could, flowing away from her like a river fleeing a firestorm. She held back loud sobs, only allowing a few to slip through.

The trip back to her apartment was agonizing and full of half-thoughts and panic. She knew she had to leave the city. Now. There would be time for her to cry later.

As she painfully dashed into her cramped apartment, she was already considering where to go. What little she still had was stuffed into a large cloth bag.

The Witches. They no doubt knew about escaping angry sorcerers.

Witches were a common sight back on the coast. They lived in house-boats and carriages and living-wagons. Endless wanderers in so many shapes and forms. Some human, some not. All that linked them was their silver eyes. Like stars. Her Mam had gone to them an awful lot after Father.. passed. Delma had gotten to know plenty of them.

She also knew that there was a little painted living-wagon near here. While she'd never met the witch that owned it, she remained hopeful. It was the only choice she had.

Steeling herself for the walk, Delma stepped outside and looked at the city for one last time. While the streets here were grimy and uncared for, the heights above gleamed. Living fireworks danced in the sky with flying carriages. It was a beautiful place.

But not worth it. She moved as quickly as she could through the maze of streets. Normally, she took a hover-bus but now she had no time to worry about being mugged. Worse things were going to happen to her if she took her time.

As she burst out of an dirty alley, the Wagon resolved itself. It stood out like a sore thumb, a wooden covered wagon, carefully painted in conservative purple-blue tones, with a silvery symbol on the side. The sheer cleanness of it was alien to the streets around it.

Delma was banging on the door in no time flat. A small window opened, barely enough for her to see silver eyes and shadow.

"Iz clozed for Feztival. Come back, three dacez. Now? Shoo." Said a woman's voice in some odd accent.

"Please. You have to help-" Delma began, desperation making her voice catch. The awful reality of the situation took hold and she sank into the door, sobbing.

A muffled hissing sound emerged from door and mixed with the sounds of opening latches. The door open smoothly, without a creak or squeak. A womanly figure held out a hand to help her up.

"In, In. Juzt no zobz." She reached for the proffered hand without thinking and manged to suppress her surprise when she felt scales.

She was hustled inside. The wagon was decorated with comfort in mind, cushioned and rugged as much as possible. She could see many drawers and charms hanging from the ceiling. Off in the rear of the wagon, two beds were built into the wall, one over the other. A table that had been nailed down was positioned near the front, with a few cushiony chairs sprinkled throughout the narrow place. It was noticeably warmer than outside and smelled of an odd mixture of herbs.

Delma was carefully seated in a chair before she finally got a chance to see the witch.

By the standards of Witches, she was likely not terribly odd looking. A tall woman with black-scales for skin and a mane of long flowing snake heads. Dressed in slightly strange flowing garments, she tinkled when she moved from bracelets and rings.

"Thiz one iz Gabi." The witch said as she took a moved over to a teapot, pulling a cup from a shelf as she went.

"Have tea. Iz good for nervez." Gabi had a seat across from Delma, holding her steaming cup in both hands.

"Now. Why zo upzet?"

Delma began to explain her situation as the witch watched passively. When Delma finished she watched back hopefully.

Gabi sighed, "Tough Zituation. I help, az other roadz lead bad wayz. Guilt or murder. No good choice." She stood, looming well over Delma. "I call zizter and brother. They come, we go."

She swept her way over to a large basin on a shelf, leaving Delma in the chair. She could have cried from relief. It had actually worked. She.. she... could be somewhere else.

The witch returned after a moment, startling the girl from her thoughts.

"We ztart move now. You, zleep. I no do for free. Later, you help pay for lozt profitz." Gabi helped the girl up and patted her on the shoulder, "But now, poor girl, you zleep away zhock."

Before she could object, Delma was helped to change and put in one of the beds. As the wagon began to move, she drifted off.

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

In Môsôoriku, specifically in Suzaku, the citizens, if they could be called that, had their own way of celebration. Heads of the weak and slow quickly met the ground, a few unlucky tourists who had ignored the warnings supplied to them by Watchers and tour guides to not come to the city, had a luckless day hiding in barrels, though they were treated to a fight... though it was more of a beat-down really.

Bone crunched loudly and echoed in the street as a succubus struck a head with the hilt of her dagger, only to echo once more as the unfortunate dwarf hit the ground. Behind her, another dwarf stood at her back, the two surrounded by a mixed group of dwarves, succubi and incubi. The two wore clothes that fit in more with the working classes of Genbu and looked to be heavily worn out and wounded (though only superficially), panting with open mouths as their enemies smiled malevolently and circled slowly. Every once in a while, one of them darted out and took a swipe with a dagger at the dwarf, darting back before either of the pair could strike back. Suddenly, one of the incubi noticed something coming towards them and yelled out a warning as the group quickly scattered. The succubus and dwarf barely had the time to turn a quarter of a circle each before being cut down by an assailant as their blood began to wash the streets of Suzaku.

There would be many more repetitions of what had happened over the next week during the Festival of Dancing Monsters in Suzaku's ever shifting population.

[Marvelous Miscreant]

As the cloaked female entered the grand forge, she was greeted by the sight of several dozen men and women, clothed in varying combinations of aprons, boots and workmen jerkins. Most of whom were stumbling about and singing "Oh Jaunty Smithy" in warbling and slurred vocals. They clearly had begun partying quite a while ago.One of the disciples noticed the Cloaked figure and gave a halfhearted attempt to stop her.

"Hey....Heeeeeeaaaaay now! The..The..The Forge ish closhed to-todays. No...No visitors....mmmmm...today!" He stuttered before collapsing in a drunken heap.

Beyond him, Crav lead his disciples in the last few verses of "Oh Jaunty Smithy" before acknowledging the women.

"Ho there! If ya come for arms, then you'll be dishappointed. We're all closed up today. But yer welcome to join the festivities!"

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

"Ah, no, I'm not really here for a weapon," the cloaked woman replies taking off the hood of her cloak, revealing her face for the first time and the eyepatch over her left eye. "I merely wanted to talk to the one in this world who happens to share a domain with my mother. My name is Jhella, Goddess of Invisibility and Blades. My mother is Lady Celia Crescent of the city Môsôoriku, Goddess of Crafting and the Moon."

Jhella bows politely to Crav, "And from what I hear, you are Crav, God of Crafting, Industry and Earth."