[b]Redana and Bella![/b]

Princess Epistia looks down at the body of her mother. Everything had happened so fast. The whole world and all its laws overturned in an eyeblink. She took a breath and looked away. She couldn't regret it. Just like in the ancient stories, evil parents had to be slain for the world to take shape. Some matricides were holy. 

And some evils needed to be ended.

The scythe came into her hands again as she stood and it's moving to its unnatural purpose before she even knows it. It cuts through the hollowed-out bodyguard in a wave - a crude, unthinking strike but it is nevertheless rewarded with red ruin. She starts, eyes shocked as she's carried through into the counterswing, bloody fury of Ares igniting in her veins. Her next move is faster, far more frightening, and takes another of the terrible, zombified soldiers at last to a true ending. Faster, faster, the speed and flawless precision of a girl discovering her true purpose in the midst of the war god's dance. Blood and death comes to the slaves of Hatchan.

It is a terrible freedom - or a glorious final curse from Zeus.

[b]Vasilia![/b]

Hades stared at you for a long moment after his priest fell to the ground, unreadable energy in those brilliant blue eyes. And then, without commentary, he is gone.


"Warriors of Ceron!" cried Admiral Odoacer, standing over the crowd. "Rejoice! I have returned to lead you! Rejoice! You shall have another chance to fulfill your oaths and return to the grace of Zeus Cloudgatherer! Rejoice! You shall be returned to glory as the bloody speartip of the Imperium!"

You know that face - you've seen its cold stare in paint, looking out over the shoulder of every Imperial bureaucrat you've ever had the misfortune of being challenged by in the void of space. But here!? With no entourage, no fanfare, no vast court of sycophants and hangers on? You never imagined that the Admiral of the Armada could be so... humble. 

But there she stands, atop a rock, addressing the crowd of Ceronians.

"But the Empire has changed, friends - it is a different place than you remember it! Lies, intrigue, betrayal, civil war - the situation is chaotic and perilous, and it is for that reason alone I did not have time to seek you out before now. Serve me - but beware! Many will attempt to deceive you, and many things that you thought were true are different now. Only I can be trusted. Only I can redeem you."

[b]Alexa![/b]

You plough through the feeble line of skirmishers like a locomotive. You and your phalanx cut through them while hardly breaking stride, shrugging off the ragged volley that tries to slow you on your shields. Ahead King Jas'o urges his men into as fast a run as they are capable of while carrying him, calling for triple-time as he turns to face you, hand once more hovering over the shaft of the next deadly Thunderbolt in his quiver.

Neither phalanx can stop now. Whichever one stops running and falls into a shieldwall will be able to be bypassed by the other. The situation is strangely akin to a chariot race through the streets of the city, a contest of speed and endurance.

You could attack the enemy phalanx directly - in its disorder it could be Finished - but committing to the charge will leave King Jas'o with a free hand. He could shoot down your soldiers, making your victory bloody, or he could abandon his men to the brawl and once more commit relentlessly to his objective. With another man which he will choose would be more of a mystery. Alternatively you could commit all-out to winning the race, attempting to get to the Princess before the King does and fall into formation there - this will be a Get Away.