Vestec tossed Amartia's body onto the snows of the Realm. Already it was shifting and changing, the snow melting and being replaced with desert sands. "Tsk tsk Amy. You had such a perfect plan, and then you had to get greedy and ruin everything. You destroyed your people, your culture, and your civilization all in one successive series of tantrums. It was really quite impressive."

Vestec circled around Amartia as he pulled himself together, giggling.  "Then you sell your soul to Logos, whom is an enemy to everyone else,  and use his dubious gift to eradicate what remains of your city. When the only person you could consider an ally shows up, you proceed to abuse her and deny me as your father. Sorry, Amy dear, but you can't escape who gave you life. I'm more your father than even Lifprasil."

"Then, rather than actually building your defenses, you decide to destroy your city and make in capable of being rebuilt. You fill the ruins with the horrificly warped monsters that used to be your loyal followers. And most, if not all, of them were killed in the following war. Which, I might add, you were horribly unprepared for. The only thing that saved you from being annihilated in minutes was dear old Tauga's preparation, slight home turf advatange, and the fact that the demons killed everyone they found. You got your ass kicked, Amy."
 
Vestec giggled again, stopping in front of Amartia. Suddenly, blackness covered his entire body. "To make an unnecessarily long monologue short, your crimes are; Stupidity. Arrogance. Childishness. Lack of Control. But I can forgive all of those." His voice was ice cold, every syllable precisely prounounced and controlled. It began to rain, washing away the sand and turning it into a small lake, rising around their ankles.

 "I can even forgive your insistence that you didn't need or want my help. What I can't forgive," Flickers of blood red began to arc through Vestec, his voice becoming rougher, angerier. His fists clenched, newly formed claws pressing into his palm. "Is how you [i]dared[/i] to bully Astarte. She would have done what you asked. [i]I[/i] would have helped you do what you asked. But no. You had to make yourself feel powerful by manipulating and hurting an innocent God. For that, you will not be forgiven."
 
The red retreated as he straightened, hands unclenching. "But I'll let you say your piece, be it in your defense or in your defiance. Speak, Amartia."

Amartía managed a chuckle around loosened teeth and torn and swollen lips. [color=Crimson]"When was the last time we spoke like this, Vestec?"[/color] he simpered, grinning up at his father.

Blood was slowly oozing out of numerous wounds all over his body, a small yet relentless flow of crimson, but however, he felt no pain; he was numb to it. Even the casual mending of broken bones and reattaching of torn ligaments didn't so much as garner a reaction.

[color=Crimson]"How many centuries has it been, since I've last seen you?"[/color] he continued. His grin disappeared and his voice steadily rose. [color=Crimson]"I've long since lost count."[/color]

He struggled to seat himself upright, yet his body refused and he fell back into grass. The terrain had changed again.

[color=Crimson]"Not once Vestec, not once have I petitioned you for help in my eons of existence. I forged Xerxes with my bare hands, with only two godly signatures to account for! Yet the rest of you have the gall to reprimand me!? To talk down at me?! Did your hands toil day in and out, building a culture, a nation from nothing?! No! You have no right speak as if you're a father reprimanding a child!"[/color] He was screaming now, each syllable emphasized by the rattle and quake of a broken body.

Yet for all his anger, his next words were oddly calm. [color=Crimson]"I have no regrets, Vestec. Everything I did, and everything I will do serves to fulfill my life's ambitions. My purpose. Astarte, was just another pawn in my game. How she or how any of you feel during my making of it, is of no concern to me at all."[/color]

"And what [i]were[/i] your life's ambitions? To tear down everything you've ever built in fits? To disregard the fact that Tauga was the only reason your hard built Xerxes didn't scatter and tear itself apart in your long absences? To mutate some and scare off the rest of your loyal citizens?" He chuckled darkly. 

"Your nation was kept alive because the gods deemed it merciful to do so. Vowzra's Victors could have destroyed everything you built, but he decided to only take you prisoner. Teknall could have smote everything into ash, but you were going to finish that job yourself. [i]I[/i] could have destroyed everything in chaotic fire, but decided to let Lifprasil prove himself." 

He waved a hand, Vetros wavering into view. "You talk about only two signatures? Vetros only has one. Zephyrion was barely active in it's creation and they're still more powerful and more stable than you ever could have been." The image wavered again, focusing on the Rovaick at work. "The Rovaick only had Teknall to show them how to forge metals, and Toun to give them discipline. More stable and on their way to being more powerful." The image shifted, focusing on the dwarves. "Until Heartworm showed up, they had no one but Lazarus. You remember her, don't you? Disciplined, and more stable than you could ever dream." The image disipated and he turned back to the demi-god.

"You had no ambitions. You were a child, playing with toys and tossing them away whenever they bored you. Breaking them whenever they annoyed you. Pathetic. You are not worthy of my divine gift." Vestec's hand reached out, as his voice boomed across the Realm of Madness. "I retract my gift of life to you, [i]son.[/i]"

Vestec's hand reached out and he [i]ripped[/i] Amartia's soul from his body, guiding it too his hand. It began to snow as he impassively watched his son thrash and die in agony.

For what seemed like an eternity, yet only spanned a single moment, a red haze of pain pulsed through Amartía's body, making even thought torturous to attempt. Then, with a palpable jolt, something clawed through the haze of torturous sensation to push at his back.  He almost wept with relief when he realized it was the feel of cold snow. As he became aware of it, Amartía's senses spun as his perception of how he related to the environment around him sickeningly changed until everything that wasn't consumed by the pain was telling him he now lay on his back.     

And, much to his frustration and chagrin, the strength and power he once had to speed him through the Battle of Xerxes was now gone, leaving him weak and virtually powerless. It was as though his limbs were made from unwilling clay, not flesh and bone, taking enormous will and strength just to make a finger twitch.  In fact his entire body now refused to respond to his demands, sluggish and torpid.  If it weren't for the fire burning through every finger length of him, he would swear he was, ...  

[color=Crimson]"Dying?"[/color] he whispered  out loud and surprised himself by actually being able to do so.  The strength and sound of his voice, while much stronger than what it was in divinity, was still hollow and weak in his ears.

Amartía gritted his teeth and relented. Everything he worked so hard to attain, had been whisked away within the blink of an eye.[color=Crimson]"What are your terms, Vestec?"[/color]

"There are no terms. You are going to die. Your empire's bones will be crushed into the dust. It's culture obliterated. Your people will be assimilated into other, far more successful, nations. You will be a footnote in history, a petty tyrant who destroyed his own nation and was executed by the stronger Alefprian Empire. You. Are. Nothing." Vestec's voice was cold, disinterested. This wasn't personal anymore. It was a sentence being carried out.

[color=Crimson]"Then so be it."[/color] Sin whispered. All the fight had left his body. He had nothing left to give.

Vestec watched as his son died, the life leaving Sin's eyes. A few moments passed, the snow gradually covering Amartia's body. The God of Chaos mused aloud to himself, staring thoughtfully at the soul in his hand. 

"I am not, however, going to let your soul die."

Vestec was gone, reappearing in a tribe of humans. "One last chance. One last chance to prove yourself worthy." He threw Amartia's soul into the body of a boy, one day away from manhood. "Make yourself king. Your goal is to build and empire. Rule it. Bring a balance to the world because you [i]know[/i] the Alefprian Empire is evil and will destroy your people."

Burning that desire into the boy's mind, he left, a whisper in the wind.

[Hider=Summary]
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[*]A short little diddy, sheeding light on the state of Ama after the Battle of Xerxes. 
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[list]
[*]To start, Vestec throws Ama into the Realm of Chaos and roasts him for a few good mintutes. Ama is smug little prick and laughs at how this is the first conversations he's had with the chaos god since his birth. He goes on to brag about how he build Xerxes with little help.
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[list]
[*]Vestec hits him with a BOI, and proceeds to compare him to his other sibalings, a sin back in our childhood days. Vestec says fuck it and takes his chaotic essamce away, essentalily making the dude mortal, and casts him into the body of a boy with the desire to build an empire. The self-perpetuating cycle of Sin begins....or does it?
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