[b]Redana![/b] Old Aphrodite smiles. Isn't he fragile? Dusty and old, tuned to a time that nobody else remembers. Isn't he kind? That smile of his is so gentle you might wonder of the accuracy the old stories that place him as the most direct inheritor of the Titans, reborn of their flesh - a lineage that perhaps even places him as the literal father of Zeus. See how easily he yields to you, releasing his shield of a mother's love so that he might drive his spear two-handed through the heart of Princess Epistia. She looks into your eyes. Has she fallen to her brother Hypnos? Has she fallen into the realm of terrible Morpheus, that surly neighbour to mighty Hades? She takes your hand in hers, and her mouth opens to say - [i]"Stop!"[/i] A chill runs up your spine. The wind ceases and the world runs cold. The Queen steps onto the grass and it wilts beneath her feet. Her hands drip with the blood of the murdered. She comes armoured for war, great gauntlets with crackling talons, but the panoply of kingship does not gleam. Her soldiers have dull and lifeless gazes. You stand in the presence of the doomed. [hider=Queen Hatchan][b]Queen Hatchan[/b] [i]Oathbreaker, foresworn, doomed - and no longer able to delay the moment of reckoning.[/i] [b]Godless:[/b] This foolish soul has angered the Pantheon, and her doom is written. When this stat is damaged her doom has arrived in full, and woe to those around her who will be caught in her dying storm. However, she is free of the laws of the gods and may break any taboo. [b]Fury of the Forsaken:[/b] The Queen's words and deeds are [b]area[/b] and [b]necrotic[/b].[/hider] "Epistia! I forbade you from the martial arts!" said the Queen. "And [i]you[/i]! How dare you trespass in my realm, my house! How [i]dare[/i] you touch my daughter!" [b]Alexia![/b] The storm strikes. There is pain. But your head falls not on stone, but into warm and gentle hands. As you lie upon the battlefield, an arrow of lightning through your false heart, Hera strokes your face in comfort. Zeus booms her triumph, the glory of victory divinely granted, and Hera turns her back, blotting out the lightning in a curtain of peacock feathers. Your sacrifice did not bring you victory, but neither did it pass unnoticed. [Damage your Blood, and you must Overcome or seek the aid of the gods to remove the Thunderbolt from your body] The King pulls his horse-haired helm off, revealing flowing light brown hair and elfin features. He snaps his fingers and his soldiers approach. They kneel in rows, three by three, raising their shields above their heads, forming a staircase for him to ascend without breaking his stride. He walks to the top of a platform of shields, borne aloft by nine soldiers, towering above the golden fields as he addresses the Ceronians. When he speaks, Zeus holds a crown aloft above his head, and his voice carries like a storm. "Warriors of Ceron! The Empire calls upon your oaths! Admiral Odoacer, whom you once swore to serve before Zeus herself, has sent me here to rescue the lost Princess Redana, daughter of Empress Nero! You have been lost here, but you were not forgotten - and now I am here to return you in glory to service!" A muttering ran through the crowd. Shocked. Horrified. [i]She lied to us[/i]. And then a soldier knelt before King Jas'o. Drawn by the inevitable pull of formation instinct the rest were dragged to their knees. The warrior king raised his arms triumphantly over his head as he accepted the loyalty of the Ceronians. [b]Vasilia![/b] [Damage Vasilia's sword] There is a certain subgenre of trashy maid theatre productions in the stranger cafes on the galaxy's fringes. Supernatural powers are sometimes ascribed to these chief servants, servitors whose job it was to embody every strength and skill that their masters could think to ask for. They don't seem like jokes any more. You've fought people before, but there were comprehensible rules to those fights. They were elegant exchanges of sword techniques and banter. They were distractions, full of trickery, mobile and fluid and full of thoughtful strategy. You don't even know what [i]this[/i] was, only that you were [i]not[/i] ready for it. "Excuse me, sir," came a nasal voice that impressively managed to say polite words without even the faintest hint of politeness. "I am going to need you to answer some questions." Ivory Smile, High Priest of Hades, came down the ramp (and was that a flicker of a tail for a moment there...?). He wore an unceremonious basic soldier's uniform, dark blue in the Admiral's colours, thick glasses and functional ponytail making him look like an armed bureaucrat - but for that book. It hung from his wrist by a chain, heavy and black and filled with terrible curses. [hider=Ivory Smile] [b]Ivory Smile[/b] High Priest of Hades, an inveterate gambler and bearer of terrible relics. [b]Shadowcaster[/b]: The weaver can manipulate shadows at will, creating illusions or darkness as they see fit. These illusions can cause no harm, but are otherwise extremely convincing. [b]Doomed Soul[/b]: When this stat becomes damaged, the shadow weaver suffers an ironic and terrible circumstance that takes them out of the scene. Whether this is funny or tragic is up to the Horizon. If this is their last stat to be damaged, they are Taken Out instead of leaving the scene. [b]Dark and Terrible[/b]: The shadow weaver can leave curses upon those unfortunate souls who cross them. When the Shadow Weaver deals damage, they can also leave a curse, limiting or hindering the cursed person in a way they describe. The curse is lifted by dawn's light the next day. [/hider] [b]Bella![/b] You're just in time to see King Jas'o's declaration to the Ceronians. Son of a bitch. He's always been worse than good - he's [i]lucky[/i]. Did he really just stumble into a legion of supersoldiers off the back of a quick duel and shitty little speech... "Of course he doesn't deserve this," said Hera, speaking to your thoughts. That quiet, soft voice that's always there for you when the world demonstrates its injustice. "He's just convenient. The Gods want the queen dead and this is how they plan to do it." There's only one gate into the city that you can see, and it's crowded with the entire Ceronian army. It's not obvious how you could get past them all, especially if the King spots you amidst the crowd. He might not recognize you, though? There's the wall itself, but it's made out of frictionless materials - [i]maybe[/i] you could scale it by breaking handholds? Commit to a plan, or take a moment to Look Closely.