THE GRAND ARMADA RESPONSE LEVEL: 4 The beasts of the jungle have been enraged by the presence of the Imperial Shuttles [hider]Location Stats: Imperial. This place is home to the Soldiers of Empire Elysium Fields. This place is home to the Warriors of Ceron [b]Bad Weather[/b] [i]The dark storm of Poseidon commences, and all within are in terrible peril.[/i] Bad weather is dangerous, and will need to be Overcome whenever it gets in the way. Bad weather always deals Soft Cuts. [b]Dark Secret[/b] This location gains another stat - the Elysium Fields. [b]Wild Animal[/b] When you reach this Response level, a Beast or Scourge threat will try to eat the next player who goes out into the open. [b]Show of Force[/b] When you reach this Response level, the Boss gains one free Hard Cut. They can make this Hard Cut at any time while they have the Spotlight. Once they use it, they lose it until the next time this Response level is reached. [/hider] [b]Redana![/b] "Of course, Princess!" said Assistant Secretary Godal with apparent relish as it started its chaotic and unpredictable path up the hill slope. "Under prior circumstances I was one of the administrators of the 'Eater of Worlds', holding an office of some distinction in the Palace of Thought." it pointed up at the enormous crystalline brain above - though it was hard to look directly at it with the small sun of the Engine at its heart. "A creature the size of the Eater of Worlds could not be administered through mere meat like you or I, and so Poseidon, in his wisdom, cultivated our society within its depths. I don't imagine this will be unfamiliar to you, from what I've heard your own ships and planets are maintained with similar social structures, it's simply what is practical for steering an entity of this size. Unfortunately," and here the Assistant Secretary of Shame almost seemed to be gloating, "the administrative caste of our society was optimized for intelligence and harmony. This meant my colleagues, Hades rest them, were not superlative warriors like the administrative cast of [i]your[/i] society. The immuneoforms did what they could, Hades rest them, but the system broke down in remarkably short order once the Palace was breached." It seemed so [i]smug[/i] about this. Like this was the most satisfying thing that could possibly have happened to it. "Myself and my surviving colleagues either surrendered or fled," Godal went on. "The Cerons were delighted to make use of my residual administrative functions. The atmospheric bubble, the triggering of the digestive reflux action to bring fertile soil up into the skull area - our work," it preened itself, pleasantly pink-maroon patterns moving across its skin. "Some others, of course, are out there trying to rally the immunoforms to attain some sad postmortem vengeance, but Lord Hades favours the Ceronians and the immunoforms have mostly - and rightly! - identified them as cancerous, and dealt with them as such." Godal gave a happy little burble-sigh, as though the spreading of this tale of defeat and failure was the reason he was born. Perhaps it was! As the brainsquid continues to natter its way through the shameful history, it's leading you up the hill through the Ceronian town. Everything is so spaced out here; houses have front gardens, streets are lined with flowers, running water flows downhill in spiral channels. It's idyllic, even as the signs of mobilization start to show everywhere. Old warriors step outside and squint at the distance, hands naturally filling with heavy, bladed farming tools. They move by instinct, flowing together, ones and twos and then in masses, coming down in the opposite direction from you. You alone move against the flow of ancient muscle stirring. The temples here are all to Hades. This is shocking - no society you've ever heard of has ever shown as such monolithic devotion to a single member of the Pantheon. Perhaps it makes sense if they believe that they are dead and in the underworld, and thus Hades is the only one relevant to them - but it still sends shivers down your spine in the same way seeing a house perched on the edge of a volcano might, no matter how solid its foundations. [b]Vasilia! Alexa![/b] The Imperial Shuttles follow you down, cutting through the trees with their massive bulks, caring nothing for anything in their path. King Jas'o had taught them well: eyes on the prize. Don't accept distractions. Attack relentlessly and heedlessly. A lesson for kings or fools about to be devoured by swarms of consuming sea life. The immune response of the Eater of Worlds is shocking. Enormous killer whale creatures breach the water, orange and blue, snapping shuttles out of the air with their crushing jaws. Prismatic crabs raise their heads and claws above the surface, snapping shockwaves of such intense force that it knocks ships from the air. A grand school of flying fish moves over the surface of the water like a silver blanket, each of them generating an ELF pulse that rips into the sky like claws of lighting. Suffice to say you lose your pursuers. You scorch ahead to touch down not long after King Jas'o's shuttle scorches a massive, burned swathe through the fields as it comes to a stop. You come down the ramp just in time to see him and his remaining soldiers forming up at the bottom of the ramp. The King hasn't put a Thunderbolt to his bowstring yet but there is no doubt he will as soon as he sees a target come out into the open [b]Bella![/b] You cut through the storm. The glowing lights of the Armada shine mistily behind you, still forming up into a defensive formation that will cut them through all of this, the most politically vulnerable ships forced to the wings. You're going forwards, the tub of a ship rolling and jarring with each cosmic wind, with every crack of technicolour lightning that leaves pink and green fires flashing all along the prow of your ship. You see dead ships drift into each other, the impacts of titans. The way ahead is lit with fires and chaos as mines slam into each other and into dead ships, carried by Poseidon's mad winds. The dead pour from breaches in slain ships and your path is paved in bone and blood. Hades is behind you, eyes such a terrible blue. The storm screams and it screams in every other colour, a bruise in space. And you cut through it all, driven by something more terrible than death and nightmare. You plunge into the maw of the Eater of Worlds.