[b]Set![/b]

“Grrrrrmph...”

The Seneschal is looking at you more appraisingly, Set. As he sinks his stylus into the malleable surface of the tablet, he’s not looking at the glyph he signs: he’s looking at you. There’s a wicked cunning there, a foxlike intelligence and refusal to give up.

You’ve made him all the more zealous in wanting to stop you, to catch you, to punish you for what you’ve just done; but he knows now that he will have to be clever and decisive. Set, avatar of her god, is a dangerous enemy clambering up the Chain.

Ah, but there it is, you have the release orders now. What’s your parting gift for him?

***

[b]Canada![/b]

Shamash buffets you with waves of sound from what feels like every side; they’re here, they’re there, they’re kicking up great clouds of sand as they damage spacetime. It’s an unsteady and berserk assault, and it’d be easy to punish if your feet weren’t sunk into the arena.

How heavy is your shield? How do you protect your ears and eyes? Why is Marianne doing this?

***

[b]Marianne![/b]

The world is growing dangerously thin. That great brute chews their way through the world, and their insistence on staying in one little arena is making things quite, quite threadbare.

What begins to leak through into the audience? What signs and portents and stray thoughts are made manifest among them as their god threatens to send them all hurtling down into your demesne?