Lords of Creation, The Second Age

[Marvelous Miscreant]

"What I wish, huh?" Thorn mused out loud. The wheels in his head were turning, slowly, but still turning. Almost immediately, his thoughts turned to greed. Money. Women. Power. They could be his and he only had to....No! His inner voice shouted at him. What about the war? The War! Oh yes, he thought...I could stop civil war single handed. I could be a hero...

Thorn turned to Murozond again, "So you're a "creature of change" eh? Then I think we'll both enjoy this little partnership. Whatcha say? Now, as you probably know, there's a little scuffle brewing right now. Those damn merchants think they can push us around. I say...it's time for a change"

Thorn chuckled at his own wit. Damn, I'm good, he thought to himself.

"Alright, alright...I wish....I wish....hmmm...oh...OH!....I wish that I could show those greedy merchants how it feels to be trod into the dirt like us!"

[Marvelous Miscreant]

Aox's brow furrowed in what could have been disgust, if not for his somewhat thoughtful expression. "Crav..." he echoed absentmindedly, "...Crav!" he repeated, this time with a hint of anger. It was clear Aox was barely suppressing hate.

"Its all his fault," he continued," Who's else could it be? He decided he needed a champion..a...a hero!" he spat the word like it was a curse. Aox's expression betrayed the smallest flicker of rage before turning to sorrow. He slumped into a seat and stared down at his palms.

"I was a tinkerer. Did you know that? Before all this...nonsense. I built things. I made mechanism and inventions that helped people. I may not have helped many or saved lives, but I was happy. Of all the Durhians, it had to be me that was chosen. Picked to be some kind of symbol. To be a ...hero. I'm not a hero, I'm a joke. I wanted so desperately to be what he thought I could be I took the easy way to strength and ended up nearly losing myself and in the end I fled like a coward. And now those people out there praise me and shout my name as if I was some paragon of virtue..."

He looked up at Koneko, "How can I face them...knowing its a lie?"

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

'Face them," Koneko replies. "Once you've reached the point in which virtually everyone knows your name, you have to face them and act as you would with anybody. After all, like you, I was essentially chosen randomly from among my people. Same with Sora and many of the others. The only ones who weren't chosen randomly were Jigoku, Hiko, Hikaru, and Kagehana. Those four were chosen to be Heroes because they were the first of their kind. The First Shadow-Scarred, the First Light-Scarred, the First Homura, they were chosen due to when they were created. Even Kagehana is older than some of the gods."

Down in the arena, the battle ends as the Lycanthrope is thrown out of the ring as Koneko chuckles, "I may not know the will of the gods, but their minds work in different ways than ours do. We may look at things from the short-term and wonder why we were chosen, but in the end, all we can do is put out as much effort as we can to help others in the world."

Koneko stops, then turns and looks Aox in the eyes, "My opinion is that as a tinkerer renowned as a warrior, your best bet is to likely use your fame to get people to look at the things you've made and spread them across the world in order to improve it even just a little bit. Even Kagehana had fun looking at a few of the things that you'd used in the tournament, like that water-spraying device. That spread across the world fairly quickly after the Nightmare Invasion and why wouldn't it? The Hero who saved the world had made it himself."

Koneko reaches up and gently taps Aox's forehead, "Have more confidence in yourself."

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

She unfolds the scroll, showing it to the elf and everyone. "This is where we're going, that dot. As you can see it's right along a Greenbelt, so not only are not going far but there's a bountiful supply of fresh water. It's easy for Vandals to dig shelter in the desert, and from the look of it our two shifter friends here are natives and can supplement our diets with stuff gathered from the desert. They lived out there, they'll know where to look."

"Now." She says, addressing the Lycanthrop. "Looking at you you must have had a few scrapes with the Watch. Lots of Vandals in the Watch, you've seen how we fight. We don't leave our own out to hang. I don't leave my own out to hang, and that is a promise. If you can't accept that, if you feel you need to have your allies determined by their species, then I remind you that any other Lychanthrope in this group would have even odds of being a Red Fang or a Stormhunter or one of the other packs that wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire."

"Adding to that." she says, turning to the Durhians. "If you could look past your own prejudices you'd see how stupid that question is. Even if they had any inclination to do something that dumb, the women in this group outnumber the men. Included in those numbers are four soldiers, four witches, and a Goliath. There are less painful ways to commit suicide than to try anything in a group with this make up. As I said before, 'wrath of Gilgamesh. I'm the leader of this expedition, and as such I won't allow any member of this group to harm another."

"And I am the leader of this group." she says, finally facing the Shifters, but was suddenly struck that there wasn't a reason she could give besides 'I was appointed.' Reveling her old name, citing her accomplishments, laying out her history, all of it bared the risk of being recognized as an outcast by the other three Vandals in the group. Then the punishment would resume, the eternal silence from her sisters that drove her to the depths of despair would be repeated. She froze up, frozen by the thought of being ignored again, trapped between accrediting herself as a leader and falling back into a world of true isolation.

"We'll vouch for her." Said one of the self-same sisters. The other two nodded in agreement. "She talks like an officer. You never really forget what they look like. The way they talk, they way they hold themselves. If she isn't a decorated officer I'll rip my own wings off and eat them."

Watches inwardly thanked her for saving her, and for not pointing out that decorated officers had tattoos. "That's exactly right. I am, however, open to any advice any of you might have."

[Philote]

[Midas]

The Lycanthrop bites his tongue, wanting to complain more but realizing that Watches was likely correct, and slinks off with the Durhians towards the back of the group to watch.

The male Shifter frowns and stands his ground, but doesn't say more just yet as he sees the other Vandals, the Servitors, and Midas himself standing nearby.

The next to actually speak up is the female Gill. "Its good that its so close" She says speaking of the destination on the map. "I...I can't go back to how I was, but Spectropolis was my home. I won't leave it for good, but I just need a new start."

A silent agreement passes through the group as several faces turn towards the center of the city. The unifying sense of departure from their pasts quells further comments of discontent.

"I'll be traveling with you until we reach our new home" Midas says "Then I'll be returning here to work on a deal concerning supplies. It will be difficult at first to establish everything, but you should have everything you could want once we are finished."

The Zombie girl breaks away from the Boquabians and draws near to Watches. "I've never been good at anything, but I've always admired the Watch. Would you allow me to scout ahead and find a path for our group?"

The female Shifter, speaking for herself and the male, the Centaur, and two of the Witches also pitch in, throwing out ideas necessary for the initial survival of the group.

"It seems they are excited to go" Midas says. To Watches alone though, he says "They are good people Watches. Some troublesome, yes, but I expect much from you all."

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[Murozond]

Murozond's ghostly visage grows a crooked smile. "It will be done"

A metallic substance floats lazily out of Murozond's land and collects into a ring into the air. The metal turns black and dense, forming into a slave's collar with a chain falling to the ground. Once formed, the collar falls into Thorn's hand.

"Hide in the shadows. Take this collar and point it at the Durhian you wish to subdue. Even the greatest merchant will lose his will and walk himself to the mine at which he once worked your kin. They will know the struggle your people have gone through."

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

"Won't be necessary to path-find, the roads run alongside the river all the way to Spectator, here." Watches says, pointing to the town on the map. "Though if you want to run ahead and make sure there's no damn Gravi looking for a good time along the road that would be a big help. The truce might be on right now, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't love making trouble."

She rolls up the map and looks over the group. "If any of you have anything you need to grab, or anything you want to do in the city you'll get thirty minutes. If not, let's move out!"

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

A bright light flies above the group quickly before turning around to return in the direction that it came from.

(This is one of Jhella's many Seekers BTW)

[Philote]

Midas looks up. "Curious" he thought.

The Servitors escort any of those who wish to stop by in the city one final time before departing, but even after this the group does not have much in their poor collection.

The Zombie girl stays close by to Watches side during the waiting period, leaving the Shadow-Scarred to do his best with the overexcited Boquabians.

Eventually the group reforms. "Let us be on our way" Midas instructs. "Watches. Would you try and find a few to be your second in commands during the trip? Not all from the same race. Try to reach out and unite the group."

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

The Seekers return to Jhella almost simultaneously report with rapid efficiency about what they had seen and heard. The goddess quickly picks up on a report about a fairly large group and heads off in the direction indicated by the Seeker. After all, there has to be something interesting to keep the attention of a group of 30 or so beings of differing races.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

Ariel looked back again to the mortals in their frantic dismay. If Uburra-Namall loved them, then surely, something about them must have been worth risking life and limb for. Hopefully, that thought would be of some comfort, as he sought out their tormentor. With that, he took a deep breath, and into the cave he went.

His progress was slow and deliberate. He gave a whisper, "Who goes there? What creature invades the realm of the Fair One?"

Intending that the echos might answer him, as a deputy of Michael, all he got in response was the occasional airy moan, the odd unintelligible whisper, portraying no intellect, no sentience at all. Either the thing was incapacitated, was unintelligent or was toying with him. Either way, things likely did not bode well for him.

Still, his sword and shield brandished, and more the crouching stance of a hunter than the proud flourish of a warrior, Ariel trudged on. The thing he pursued now, was not necessarily an enemy, but was certainly a target.

Where had it gone...?

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

"Oh wow, a spy!?", one of the Boquabians whispered with near childish glee. The Shadow-scarred turned back to find them, always them, buzzing around behind him like gadfly's.

"Does privacy mean nothing to the pair of you?" He said, livid. He scanned the rest of the group for anyone who might have heard her hushed outburst, but found to his relief that everyone was subdivided themselves into their own little groups again. Having no particular preference he had decided to speak with Watches, who was walking in front of the procession, assuming that it would be a private conversation between the Vandal and himself. But somehow, against all odds, these two....

Noticing the intensity of the Shadow-scarred's glare, the male Boquabian leaped in front of his partner and proclaimed, "Careful Iri, a spy is trained in the most underhanded and efficient of the fighting arts. It's said that he could kill you over 6000 ways with his thumb alone!"

The female, Iri's eyes lit up at this. "Really Charlos? Are you sure?"

"Of course my dear, Richter Nightbain himself used thumb technique #67 in order to defeat The magician Havlock and his  Formula of Gold!"

Watches just had to respond to that. "Richter Nightbain the book character?"

"Richtor Nightbain books are autobiographical, written under a pseudonym so as not to blow his cover." Charlos rambles off confidently. Iri nods at this, as those this were gospel wisdom, with a smug smile on her face.

"Richtor Nightbain is a fictional character and those books don't portray the reality of being a spy at all." The Shadow-scarred says with a resigned look on his face. "Most of what we do is paperwork. Copying files, following people, talking. Lots of talking. I can not kill anyone with my thumb."

Iri and Charlos seem to deflate significantly upon hearing this. Almost audibly in fact, letting out big sighs, and The Shadow-scarred couldn't help but wonder how they kept sneaking up on him. Watches, meanwhile, get's a pensive look on her face. "You're saying you were spying on Spectropolis?"

"Everyone spies on Spectropolis. Spectropolis makes it easy, the city practically throws open its doors and invites us in. It's one of the easiest posting you can get." He replies.

"So, why are you out here?"

He grimaces. "I'm no longer working with my previous organization."

The Boquabians gasp simultaneously, and turn to each other.
"Burned."
"Blacklisted."

"Stranded," He continues. "Stuck in Spectropolis. No friends. Hardly any money. No hope. That's how I ended up out here, offering my skills to you."

"What would I ever need a spy for?" Watches asks.

"Who knows. But if a situation ever calls for the skills of Robert North, you'll know he has them." He says, turning around and walking away, toward the rear of the group. Watches watches his go, pensive.

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

Jhella follows the directions of her Seeker and quickly comes upon the group, scanning them, she quickly notes the difference on races had been accurately reported and quickly becomes invisible to watch them and listen for interesting tidbits.

(Reminder: Jhella's aura does not give off any indication that she is a god, but she can still be felt as if a mortal.)

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

Fortune placed his massive hands upon the ceiling and pulled with all his strength. With a sound like ripping the ceiling pulled apart, dripping golden nectar down on the gods below. With great strength the ship man pulled himself up and out of the room. The Reasonable followed.

As he narrowed his eyes in the light of the setting sun, and could see something swirling round the top of the flower. A collection of little lights. "Well, at least we know where it is."

"I'd be more interested in knowing what it is."

The Resonable looked behind him and sneered. "Oh, look who's finally decided to become involved."

The Watchman and The Veteran stood there on the cusp of the tear. The Veteran waved, but the Watchman only strode forward to look up at the flower. "What caused this?" he asked again.

"I've been doing you're job all day, by the way. You're welcome. Trying to put out all these fires you missed."

The Veteran is the only one to look into the hole. "Good evenin' ladies, Crav. Man, got into the 'inspiration' again, didn't ya?" he says, miming a bottle to lips on the word inspiration. "This is beautiful. What is it, anniversary present for Namall?

[Gentleman Vaultboy]

"Have you ever had that feeling of eyes on the back of your neck, but you didn't want to turn around because you knew that seeing the thing would be worse than just letting it get you?" Came a voice from the darkness behind Ariel, the question airy and entirely sincere. And young. If there was one thing that Ariel couldn't have expected to find down here in the depths, it was the voice of a young girl.

[Celadon's Penultimate]

Ariel steeled himself against his own instinct. He forced his hands steady, willed his legs still, and controlled his breath not to betray the slightest whisper.

"I've never known such a sentiment before." the angel responded to the voice in the dark, "And I have no intention of feeling such a weak disposition now. So, if you know what's good for you, you'll come forth in the light, and show your face. If you are a denizen of these lands, then Uburra-Namall's jurisdiction compels you. If not, then you are compelled under penalty of her wrath. Either way, you will not remain hidden much longer."

Anticipating he might soon have a face to put to the voice, the angel turned his head to every side. He gripped his sword tighter, making quite sure not to betray his growing inner dismay.

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

Magnas replies bitterly before the Crafter can think of what to say, "I wish this was his 'inspiration.' No, this is the result of something we don't understand touching the Earth Molder and causing an explosion of creation. I'm sure that Kyuuketsu would LOVE to be here."

[Philote]

"Dear Watches" Midas calls to get her attention.

"It is getting late, perhaps we should postpone our arrival at our destination till tomorrow. Besides, it appears that we have a visitor."

Midas turns and looks towards the invisible visitor. "Come out, we mean no trouble. We are people of trade, I'm sure we can find something satisfying for us both."

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

Jhella steps forward, grinning, though still invisible and replies, "Satisfying how for both of us? How so? Are you capable of delivering to me the head of a goddess?"

[Philote]

"For the right price and under the right contract, something could hypothetically be arranged."

Midas steps up to Jhella and looks her in the eye. "Are you making an offer?"

[Tsubasa & Wen Tien]

"An offer? How do you know if what I'm saying isn't just an example? Or a trap?"

Jhella laughs out loud for all to hear, "For that matter, how do you know I'm even a mortal? Or exist within the realm of understanding? How do you know that I'm not just a mass delusion of a random voice?"