[b]Cizra Su-Lahn[/b]

The cacophonous boom of thunder and lightning illuminated the lofty tower, the exterior of which was covered in a thick weave of arachnid silk, translucently lit by each strike from the clouds, giving it a constant electric glow. Inside the tower, Zeptir sat before a marble desk, inscribing notes onto a crimson letter of parchment using a dark-green ink. His entire body was concealed within a thick white robe, save for two holes where a pair of black antennae protruded three feet out, and narrow holes that allowed his mantid eyes to intermittently peer out through a square aperture, allowing him to view that storm which served as inspiration for his research and the ideas he inserted within them.

Among some of his ideas existed the theory that all Cizrans existed as part of a single collective conscience that had been shattered most likely hundreds of thousand of years ago by an unknown event. He formulated this theory after privately receiving the brains of several deceased priests who appeared to have conducted a group spell. The sender knew that the brain had long ago been proven to be an associated source of psychic and magical activity among all living organisms, and given Zeptir's knowledge of the magic and the effects it had on Cizran physiology, he had been the one chosen to perform the task of dissecting them for answers.

The documents read that came with the delivery read: [b]Tu-Kras, Si-Kanchin, Mar-Kruft, Tala-Ceerin, and Ganti-Yuta ALL DIED SUDDENLY AFTER FAILING TO FULFILL CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATIONS WRITTEN WITH [i]*REDACTED*[/i] CLASS DEITY.[/b]

"Contractual [i]Obligation[/i]..."

Internal brain scans revealed that the priests prolonged signs of heightened neural activity in addition to a massive hemorrhaging. The empathic organ - a region of the brain known for producing for deep emotions - emotions that needed extreme training and temperance before one could even begin magic, and thus contact a higher spirit for the purpose of making a pact had swollen to three times the normal size. There were only two possible conclusions: the spirit was too strong, or they were simply too weak to handle the spell. Zeptir concluded the former, given that this had been a group activity consisting of [b]five[/b] Cizran priests. Just one should be enough to handle a simple pact, unless the pact held massive political ramifications, in which case the presence of something so absurdly powerful may have been justifiably necessary.

In any case, the mission was clearly a foolish one, though mainly in execution. Personal pacts were one thing, but a pact designed for multiple people, and possibly multiple parties? If they were plotting a usurp, or aiming to use the overwhelming power of a senior deity, then at least one hundred or more would be needed just to maintain a summoning circle, making it all the more difficult to hide their conspiracy.

Still, Zeptir had to file a report on his findings and send it back along with the brains, and so he decided to search his library for clues as to just what specific deity those priests were trying to summon. He figured if he could pinpoint which one, then it would provide some evidence of their intentions, and possibly lead to the arrests of other known religious associates.

It was during this time of arduous research that Zeptir felt something tugging on his antennae. The unusual twitch of his mantid fingers every time he came back upstairs with a piece of literature, where the organs had been refrigerated. He had this irresistible urge to run his hands up and down the jars, and on many nights found himself constantly opening the doors and finding excuses to perform further inspections. He hadn't noticed it at first, but each time he finished up, he set the jars just a few centimeters closer together. In the following weeks those centimeters turned to inches. A month went by and he felt the inexplicably and unignorable desire to move his desk closer to the refrigerator.

Feelings like these weren't normal, and Zeptir knew better than to allow himself to be compromised, so he quickly pulled the name of the strongest deity he could find and slapped it on the return file before preparing to repackage and resend. Upon opening the refrigerator, he found that all five jars had fused together, and the brains had begun the to merge along with them. Not wanting to be in possession of something so horrifyingly influential, Zeptir shipped the brains and files as quickly as he could, noting his suspicions of a possible, but as-of-yet unconfirmed conspiracy within the priesthood, and the strange physical anomaly of the brains. He intentionally withheld that he had been affected himself, finding it best that he remain detached by keeping his name out of the loop.

Then, Zeptir's antennae flickered again, but this time for an entirely different reason.

[b]Deep Space, Location Unknown[/b]

A satellite composed of thinly woven strings glistened as it was hit by the light of countless stars floating through the cosmos. It was designed for the specific task of intercepting ethereal frequencies, then pinging the signal across countless relay satellites where it reached an unimaginably colossal vessel that was so massive so as to create a visible black spot in space, blotting out the light of other stars.

Aboard the vessel, a General with a face resembling a shark approached a soldier whom he had made a deal with many years ago. This soldier had fought many wars in the name of the General's organization in exchange for power. There was also the agreement that personal affairs were to take priority over any current engagements with enemies of the organization, provided they could afford to do so.

Now was one of those times.

"One of our agents has accidentally intercepted a negative psionic signal coming from your homeworld. As per our agreement, you may take a leave of absence in order to resolve your world's problem."

The soldier rose to his feet with a nod of gratitude and began to approach one of the warp pods located in his quarters.

"If you should have need of our assistance, soldier, know that we prepared to give it."

"I take my leave, General."

[b]Kilamara[/b] 

Kirri ceased his mad dash on hearing the voice of Kaan speaking to him inside his head. He witnessed the devastation he had wrought upon the swordsman's mind, thoroughly taking him over in what appeared to be mere seconds. Is this what had happened to the rest of his people, he wondered. Was this going to be his fate as well? He hadn't a chance to view what effects this man had on Kilamarans themselves, but was it something to be left to chance.

Before he could answer, the swordsman collapsed right in front of him, leaving only the strange piece of text floating toward him. 

"Do not trust the words of a being who claims dominance over you, while at the same time, lacking the courage to face you directly."

An azure light overtook the desert sky, its the single ray branching out into a thousand piercing beams with the exception of one struck the infected Kilamarans directly in their fire stone crystals. The light rapidly spread throughout the crystals, producing a cold not unlike the north and south poles, flash-freezing the stone wherein it cracked and shattered, leaving a gaping hole where the crystal had once been embedded mere seconds ago. 

Rather than attempt to purge the curse from his people's souls, Aredemos, the original Warrior of Redemption targeted the source of corruption, knowing full well that without the fire stones, the Kilamarans were powerless to do anything significant beyond their petty, hate-fueled murders.

The final beam rocketed toward Kirri's position, its azure light bending into a familiar shape, that of a Redeemed Warrior, hitting the desert with a tremendous impact that created a freezing shock-wave. The shock-wave passed over the still-standing Hellseeds, chilling them to their very core, only for Aredemos to slam into them with his black insectoid body that was easily twice as large as Kirri's, shattering those miserable skeletons into a hundred shards of bone, stopping just before the page which sought to infect yet another Kilamaran with its vile influence.

"[i]I[/i] will resist you."

Aredemos spoke to Kaan, whose voice he could hear through his own fire stone as well as Kirri's and all the other Kilamarans living on this world. Without allowing Kirri to contemplate Kaan's offer any further, he reached out with his right hand and curling his fingers into a fist, the blood and saliva staining its surface crystallizing as frozen spread over its entire surface, piercing, skewering, and shredding the page into a useless piece of paper.