[b]Alexa![/b]

You always knew the Kaeri were dangerous. You fought them and fought alongside them - if only briefly. They left an impression then too. Perfectionists, geniuses, warriors of the intellect, kings of the shadows. Direct confrontation was never their way then, simply accepting a holding action or selling their lives dearly was never sufficient purpose for them. But that haughty pride has boiled over into a transcendent, vicious and manic battle strategy. 

You see the shape of it in the line of detonations along the boarding clamps. The ship exterior is dark with flocks of Kaeri, crossing over towards the Plousios, braving the storm of point-defense ELF fire that cooks them inside their black void shells as they storm your ship. As you watch they land a huge plasma thruster module on the side of the Plousios, plug it into external power conduits, and let it fire. Suddenly the Plousios has an extra thruster firing at full burn, accelerating the ship wildly away from the Anemoi.

At the same time, critical warning lights come on and you feel the noiseless floor of the Anemoi shudder beneath your feet. That's - [i]they've set the Reactor to breach![/i] The artificial sun at the heart of the Anemoi is being withdrawn from its containment and within a matter of minutes the entire ship will detonate in a cosmic fireball. 

They've boarded your ship, [i]stolen[/i] your ship, and left you on a hulk that is set to blow. They have also engineered a solution that will move them out of the blast radius. It's brilliant. And frankly, it is absolutely unnecessary.

The Kaeri had, until this point, been [i]winning[/i]. A simple, conventional defensive action where they continued to apply pressure could have boxed you in, crushed your morale, and forced your surrender. But instead they had gone for this galaxy brain ship swapping masterstroke thing that, in practical terms, had thrown away their advantage. They'd abandoned their militia forces to do this, and the Lanterns were now panicking and abandoning the battlefield. There's anarchy in all directions here right now, two armies dissolving into terrified and heavily armed stampedes. Phobos and Deimos reign supreme.

But then, the Kaeri were no doubt congratulating themselves on their success. It hit all of their objectives: Proving themselves smarter than everyone else, executing a brilliant plan to perfection, minimizing Kaeri losses and maximizing their kill-death ratio. And, frankly, that was why neither Molech nor Nero had favoured them as warrior servitors. It wasn't enough for the Kaeri to be smart; they had to be the smartest motherfuckers in the room every time, no matter what it cost them. They'd never learned that an unglamourous victory was still a victory.

This is one hell of a mess, even still. If they'd done this from a position of weakness it'd have turned the entire battle on its head. Everything is going to descend into absolute madness in a matter of moments. Ares is opening his jaws to turn this entire battlefield into a slaughterhouse and not only will that spell the end of the Alcedi, but the carnage will cost critical time needed to stabilize the Engine. You need to rally these people and bring some sort of order quickly.

[b]Dolce![/b]

"Weeks," said Hades softly. "Weeks... you ask for much, Dolce. There are those who would pay a far higher price for a far smaller prize."

Again his gaze turned to the Rift and the Rivers that flowed there.

"Perhaps you will regret this decision, even so," he said. "More than the Rift and Rivers, you must face your curse. Aphrodite is cruel and, more than simply dividing the galaxy in two, he has damned every being in this realm to suffering, betrayal and death. When was the last time you saw a happy relationship, a love that was not doomed? He brings incompatible people together and destroys them both in the union. As vessels near the Rift the curse, their destinies, comes due. Mortals kill each other, kill themselves and - if they are very lucky and disciplined - their empty charnel vessels will drift into the Rivers to be swept away by the tides."

Hades stood, sweeping smooth his vest and lap and away the Rift, eyes blue oceans dammed. 

"If you live for love be wary, for love is always cruel."

And his echoing footsteps fade away, transitioning into the pounding of your frantic heartbeat.

[b]Vasilia![/b]

"You studied the Third Form, and found yourself surrounded with its targets," said the Furnace Knight. "The Third Form is the way of the Mad Orbit, the moon that consumes the world - an ideal style for fighting armoured and slow opponents. But you do not know all its secrets. Observe."

The Furnace Knight stood and shrugged his robe from his shoulders, revealing his bare and scarred chest. Azura scars are curious things - scales that, after being broken and shattered numerous times, have regrown in ugly and reinforced patterns, resulting in patches of dark and dense armour crossing his body in scribbled calligraphy. He selects a silvery rapier, very similar to the one you use, from the weapon rack to his side. And then, with the familiar whir of the Glave, he lifts into the air.

"The Mad Orbit is erratic," he said as he slowly, deliberately went through the stances from your ancient Azura scroll. "It is unexpected. It is the strike of the satellite, the meteor, the comet. You are able to move like a thunderbolt and focus gravity to apply the weight of your fall at the tip of every thrust. You are able to withdraw and observe, giving yourself distance and angles. But your scroll did not teach you the Form's hidden technique."

The Furnace Knight gripped the blade of his rapier and [i]crushed[/i] it. He smoothed away the edge in one solid motion, adapting the bladed weapon into an ugly, blunt stump. And then he descended on a training mannequin in a bizarre adaptation of the style you're used to. He strikes wildly, smashing into stone as much as the dummy, tail thrashing. And then with a leap of terrible power he's back into the air...

... and has drawn up all the broken stone [i]with[/i] him. It is attached to his tail - the Grav-Glave's effect only extends to things you are in contact with, and his sweeping tail motions have made contact with all of the shattered stone and debris from his frenzied attack. And then he snaps forwards into a sudden rush, freezes himself in place, and flicks his tail - sending forth a massive spray of terminal velocity stone shards to blast another mannequin into ruins.

"The Meteor Storm is the hidden technique of the Mad Orbit," said the Furnace Knight, settling back down onto the ground and putting his robe back on. "The powerful often leave destruction in their wake, and their ruin can become your sword. This would be an ideal technique for combating the Imperial Praetor, except," he slaps your legs with his blunt weapon, "your biped legs lack the musculature and surface area to perform it successfully. Another stratagem must be devised."

He settled back into his chair. Eyes you carefully. You get the distinct impression he took the break into martial demonstration in order to give you time to settle your emotions, but he does not say as much out loud. There are still protocols to adhere to.

"So," said the Furnace Knight, pointing at the ring around your finger. "Why did you not marry her? It sounds like it would have been a politically advantageous match - or were your sights set higher?"